


The Girl Next Door

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Archie Comics
Genre: Beggie fluff fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1230568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s known her all his life. Taunted her, ignored her, and loved her by turns. Beggie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling this plot possibility for a while when I was in the middle of writing Pigtails. This story is less about the different guys who like Betty, or her rivalry with Ron, and more about how Betty feels about Reggie as a whole. This is kind of a companion piece to Pigtails, almost a what-if. It’s an AU, not particularly canon, to an extent, because I’m ignoring some of the common, popular background pairings. That’s how I roll. Get used to it.

“Stop. Where are you going with those?”

“Outside.” Alice stared down at her twelve-year-old daughter quizzically, deciding Betty had been too quiet all day. She looked like she was up to something.

Not just one, but two melting twin pops, fresh out of their clear cellophane wrappers, were clenched in her hands. Alice shook her head.

“Not before dinner. And just one.”

“I want to share the other one,” Betty explained quickly.

“With who?”

“A friend.”

“Dinner’s in a half an hour.” Alice backed off her end of the discussion long enough to check the roast she had in the oven. “Which friend?”

“Um… well…” Betty hedged, and her cheeks turned beet red.

Ah. It made sense to Alice in that moment that it was wiser not to ask too many questions.

“You can give Juggie a popsicle if you want, but that’s it. Just one.” Betty almost laughed with relief. Her mother drew her own conclusion, and she hadn’t been found out.

Jughead was Alice’s logical conclusion. Betty and Forsythe, indolent, scabby-kneed, skinny and owning the appetite of a three-hundred-pound truck driver, were thick as thieves. He was often her partner in crime for trips to the park to play with his remote control cars; comic collecting; going to the penny candy store; fishing in the creek with nets; watching Mighty Mouse cartoons and reruns of the Six Million Dollar Man, and jumping into more tomboyish pursuits than her mother could even catalog.

Why wouldn’t she give Juggie a popsicle? Betty hurried out the back screen door, letting it slam shut. “Careful with that door!”

“Sorry!” Betty offered without turning back. She was off and running, out of the back yard and through the side fence. She elbowed open the latch to avoid dropping the twin pops. 

Automatically, she headed next door. She beamed when she noticed a familiar five-speed bike in the driveway. Good. He was home. Her cheeks flushed again, and her stomach fluttered as she skipped up the front steps and hit the doorbell with her pinkie.

“Get the door, sweetie,” Betty heard Mrs. Mantle cry from the back of the house. Betty’s heart hammered and she licked a drop of cool, sticky red juice from her hand while she waited.

“C’mon, c’monc’monc’mon,” she muttered under her breath. A sudden rush of footsteps from behind the door both thrilled and terrified her. The front door was tugged open after she saw the edge of a shaggy black head peek through the ruffled curtains in the window.

Reggie stood before her, hand on the screen door handle, brows drawing together. “What do you want?”

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He nodded to her hands. “Where did you get those?”

“My house. Come outside. Have one with me.” She ignored his exasperated little sigh and wanted to dance with glee when he opened the door and stalked out onto the porch steps.

His summer tan was fading a bit from spending the past three days inside. The long, thick cast that covered his arm from knuckles to elbow was the culprit. Reggie’s mother was protective of him and refused to let him back out onto the ball field with a busted radius and fractured wrist. Reggie’s dark waves of hair were slightly tousled and mashed in the back from lying back against the couch cushions. He automatically reached for the red popsicle but hesitated. “Which one did you lick already?”

“The purple one,” she lied. Betty licked both of them to catch the drips; it couldn’t be helped. She handed it to him. “Here.” She sat on the top step of the porch and sucked on the twin pop noisily. Grudgingly he sat beside her.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“What’ve you been doing all day?”

“Nothing. Hung out with Jug earlier. I read his new Spider-Ham today.”

“Spider-Ham’s lame,” Reggie sneered, shaking his head. Betty elbowed him.

“No he’s not! I love Spider-Ham! He’s funny!”

“LAAAAME,” Reggie protested. He temporarily held his popsicle with his bad hand and made a “loser” ‘L’ with his finger and thumb over his forehead.

“You’re missing out,” she assured him as she went back to her pop, but she was suppressing a grin.

“What else did you read at Jug’s, the Care Bears?” Reggie prodded, smirking as he bumped up against her with his shoulder.

“No,” she huffed. “Please. They’re so sissy. Yuck.”

“So? You are sissy,” he shrugged.

“Am not!”

“Sissy,” he pronounced.

“Wuss. I’m not the one in a cast. And you throw like a girl,” she accused.

“No, I don’t!” he snapped, but she grinned at him. “YOU throw like a girl! Hello.” But to her credit, Betty had a wicked curve ball, and she’d outpitched them all, including Big Moose.

“So? What’s your excuse?” Betty caught the drips from her twin pop and smirked at him with purple lips.

“Jerk.”

Betty eyed his cast, poring over all of the scribbles; there was hardly any blank space left on the orange plaster. “Who drew all the little hearts?” she pressed. Reggie chuckled and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Ronnie and Midge. At least they didn’t make flowers or Smurfs or other girly stuff.” But he sounded a little proud, regardless.

“What are you doing today?”

“Nothing. I did my paper route this morning, even though I can only throw with one arm. It sucked.”

“Maybe I can help next time.”

“I don’t need any help, it just took longer, that’s all,” he argued. “What did you do?” His expression looked slightly doubtful, as though she couldn’t have done anything that impressive, but she’d saved him from further boredom; Reggie hated being cooped up inside alone.

“Eh. Nothing much.” Nothing he’d be interested in hearing about, Betty decided. She spent a great deal of her morning cleaning out her closet of clothes that she had outgrown, helping her mother bag them up for Goodwill to make room for new ones. She searched for other topics of discussion, anything to justify hanging out on his porch.

It was a useless effort.

“REG!” They both turned at the sound of Chuck Clayton’s voice and the whizzing of his bike wheels as he sped up Reggie’s driveway. Betty waved, but for the most part he ignored her. “Dude, what’s goin’ on? When do you get that thing off?”

“I’m benched til school starts,” Reggie muttered miserably.

“You can’t even swim? We’re going to the lake. My dad’s bringing the grill.”

“That sounds cool,” Betty chimed in.

“What’s up, Cooper? Did you come over to nurse little Reggie back to health?” Chuck teased, and his voice rose to a girly pitch, no big stretch since he was only twelve. “Can I fluff your pillow, sweetie pie?”

“Shut up!” Betty retorted, and her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. Why did boys have to be such jerks?!?

“Yeah, Betty? What’s up? I don’t need any girl babying me!”

“Am not!”

“Sure looks like it,” Chuck accused. Betty shied away from Reggie, now embarrassed to be caught sitting beside him, resenting the sneer twisting her crush’s features.

“Whatever,” she tsked.

“C’mon, man. We’re going to the lake at three.”

“I’ve gotta ask my mom. I can’t get my cast wet.”

“Who else is going?” Betty inquired.

“Not you,” he mocked.

“So?”

“So why do you wanna know?”

“I was just asking a question,” Betty told him haughtily. “Whatever.”

“Is that all you know how to say?” Reggie added. His dark brown eyes were full of laughter, and if she wasn’t ready to kick him in the shins, he would have been cute.

“Bye,” Betty offered. “I know how to say that, too.” She trotted down the steps and stalked back into her own yard, fuming.

“Oooooo,” Chuck crowed. “She looks ticked.”

“Eh. Yeah.” Reggie bit a huge chunk from his pop, feeling slightly guilty. “Who else is going, anyway?”

“Huh? Nobody. Just Arch, Jug and Moose, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Reggie’s ears perked up. “Who else, dude?”

“Nobody,” Chuck huffed.

“C’mon, man, we’re bros.”

“I asked Nancy if she wanted to come,” Chuck confessed.

“Nancy!”

“C’mon! She goes to our church! My parents told me to ask her,” he explained hastily, throwing out his hands. But Reggie wasn’t about to let go of the bone that Chuck threw out there.

“Chuck likes Nancy…”

“Shut up, dude!” Chuck made shushing gestures at him, to no avail.

“CHUCK LIKES NANCY! Aw, man! I’m telling everybody!”

“You ain’t right.”

 

Betty stomped into the house and headed for her room. Alice looked up from the shirt she was ironing in the kitchen, slightly confused.

“Didn’t you just go out?”

“I’m going back out in a sec,” Betty called back.

“That was fast.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Don’t stay out too long. We’re going to the doctor in an hour. I need to get your school physical done.”

“Aw! Mom!” Betty hated going to the doctor’s. Every year, her checkups got more embarrassing, and Dr. Brown asked her more prying questions. Even worse, she felt awkward having to take off her clothes, feeling more modest about her body, which was changing. Sometimes her bones ached. Sometimes her chest hurt, and her mother brought her a handful of training bras. Betty wanted to hide behind the clothing racks when her mother began holding them up to her to check the size. Betty had grown two inches taller over the summer, but her pants weren’t just high-water anymore; they were tighter around the hips, meriting a trip to the junior’s section when her mother took her to buy school clothes.

“I wanna go hang out with Ron.”

“You can call her when you get home, honey.”

“I just want to go over for a little bit! I’m going to wear my skates,” Betty insisted as she rummaged in the bottom of her cluttered closet for them, chucking out several pairs of sneakers, stuffed animals, and clothing that had fallen to the floor from not being buttoned properly on the hangers.

“Watch the clock, Speedy.”

Betty jerked her battered, custom-made skates onto her feet, flicking one of the royal blue, polyurethane wheels to hear the ball bearings spin. She laced them up tightly, wrapping the extra length of the laces around the tops of the boots to keep herself from tripping over them. She picked up the abandoned popsicle that she’d set on top of the tissue box for safekeeping, not caring that it had dripped a little, and Betty scooted out the door, skating across the hardwood floor.

“BETTY! No skates in the house!”

“I’m leaving the house,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon!”

“Brat,” Alice muttered under her breath. “What’s gotten into that girl?” What was it about hitting puberty that made kids lose their minds? 

Betty zipped down her front walk, studiously ignoring Chuck and Reggie as she took off.

“Dang. Look at her go,” Chuck whistled. 

“Geez…” The sight of her long, fair legs in cut-off shorts flashing by impressed him, but he jerked his eyes away when Chuck almost caught him staring. He crunched down on the rest of the red popsicle, ignoring the brain freeze.

*

 

Betty made it to Ron’s quickly and clumped up the short set of steps to the door. She politely rang the doorbell once and waited, knowing she wouldn’t be kept waiting long. The door swung open after three seconds, and Smithers offered her a gracious smile.

“Why, Miss Cooper, what a nice surprise!”

“Hi, Smithers. Is Ronnie home?”

“Indeed. She’s lounging by the pool. Am I correct in assuming you’d like to join her?”

“Yes, please!” She dropped a silly curtsy, and he opened the door more widely to allow her in, but he stopped her briefly, nodding down at her feet.

“Those will have to come off, first.”

“Ooh. Sure. Sorry about that.” Hastily she unknotted her laces and jerked the skates off, sitting down in an ungainly pose to accomplish the task. Smithers hid his chuckle behind his hand, coughing slightly as she stood to enter the house. 

“Right this way.” It wasn’t uncommon for him to let his employer’s daughter’s best friend into the house in her stocking feet. Miss Veronica’s friends never stood on ceremony, something he frequently regretted.

“One moment,” he suggested before he opened the back door in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Here.” He held up the wastebasket, pointing at the popsicle stick still clutched in her hand. “For that.”

“Thank you.” Sheepishly she dropped it into the bin, and they continued outside.

Veronica’s music was blasting from the expensive speaker deck from the outdoor wet bar, and Betty could smell sunscreen. Her best friend was lying out on a chaise, reading an issue of Marie Claire and sporting a red bikini. She turned at the sight of her best friend and lifted her sunglasses from her face, propping them on top of her head. “Hey!” she grinned. “It’s about time you came over!”

“I never said I was coming over,” Betty pointed out.

“I was waiting for you, anyway. I’m so bored,” Veronica pouted. “Put those down. Get your suit on,” she suggested. Betty frowned.

“I didn’t bring a suit. I just came to hang out for a little while.”

“Aw. C’mon. I’ve got a whole bunch. You can borrow one.”

“Yay!” Betty clapped her hands and followed Veronica to the cabana while Smithers beckoned to them one last time.

“Would either of you young ladies care for refreshments?”

“Maybe just a little snack,” Veronica shot back.

Mere minutes later, the girls were re-situated by the pool, slathered in sunscreen, giggling and munching on Chee-Tohs, just one selection of the banquet of goodies Veronica decided was a “little snack.” The side table between the chaise lounges was piled high with pretzels, gummy bears, Oreos, mixed nuts, and a case of Diet Coke. Betty sighed at how good the sun felt against her skin, now that she was attired in one of Ron’s most modest suits, a blue one-piece Tyr with a racer back that was meant more for real swimming than for show.

“I want to get my hair like that,” Veronica insisted, pointing to a photo of Katy Keene, whose long black hair featured deep purple streaks.

“Your dad would hate it.”

“So? He’ll let me have it,” Veronica challenged. “Just watch. I’m going to have those streaks on the first day of school.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to do that. Remember how Josie got sent home with a note last year when she came to school with after she dyed her hair green?”

“She dyed her whole head,” Veronica reasoned. “I just want streaks.”

“They might look nice,” Betty murmured. “Hm.”

“I could model like her,” Veronica bragged.

“Maybe if you were five-ten like her and never ate.”

“I’m not fat!”

“I know you’re not fat. But models don’t look like we do. They’re freaks of nature,” Betty pronounced.

“I still wish I could look like that,” Veronica mused.

“You’re pretty,” Betty assured her.

“Well, I know that,” Veronica huffed, throwing a pretzel at her. “I still want to look like her.”

“I don’t.” She sighed briefly, then asked “Why are boys such jerks?”

“Why? Who was being a jerk this time?” Veronica was about to put her sunglasses back on, but she let them dangle by the stems from her fingertips.

“Reggie and Chuck.”

“When did you hang out with them? I thought Reggie broke his arm playing ball with you guys.”

“I stopped by Reggie’s today. He’s right next door.”

“Why?” Veronica wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I wouldn’t have gone to his house. Reggie’s a punk.”

“He’s okay, sometimes,” Betty argued. “I just wanted to see how he was. And Chuck came by, and he acted like I wasn’t having a conversation with Reg, or anything. He invited Reggie to the lake.”

“The lake’s dirty. I hate how the mud feels under your feet when you get in. I’ll take my pool any day.”

“Must be nice,” Betty scoffed. “How you must suffer.”

“Terribly.” Veronica pulled a face, and both of them laughed.

“I don’t get it. All I did was talk with Reggie, and he turned into a total jerk when Chuck came over.”

“Weird,” Veronica agreed. “Who knows?” They continued reading their magazines and gradually threw back two Cokes each, figuring the calories from the snacks didn’t technically count, now, since the soda didn’t have any. That was how it was supposed to work.

“Hey!” They looked up at the sound of a familiar voice coming from behind the iron gate around the poolside. Veronica grinned at the sight of Archie’s freckled face and flame red hair, and she hurried to her feet, trotting over to let him in.

“Why didn’t you just use the front door?”

“Smithers might not let me in,” he shrugged, and he fought the urge to grin over how he’d hit the jackpot. Veronica, in a red bikini? And Betty, in equally few clothes? Life was good.

Archie Andrews was an early bloomer in that regard. Some would even say that he jumped into his girl-crazy phase as early as the age of two. Even as a toddler, Archie had been a flirt, playing bashful, playing peekaboo with grown women from behind the furniture, reaching up to be picked up whenever any of his mother’s pretty friends came over for coffee.

Veronica’s father wasn’t particularly fond of Archie, not because he had an unpleasant personality at all, but his constant clumsiness endangered his expensive collection of artifacts and rare art. He’d had to rescue his thousand-dollar golf clubs from his hands on more than one occasion, and Smithers had a coronary when he trekked across an expensive Persian rug without taking his dirty sneakers off first.

Veronica decided it was just as well that he’d come in through the back, anyway. Now she could show off.

“Looks like you’re having a party.” Archie helped himself to a handful of pretzels, and Betty held out the bag of Chee-Tohs. He pulled up a third chaise, and Veronica looked irritated when he pulled it up next to Betty’s instead of hers.

“There’s more shade over here,” she told him helpfully. 

“Okay.” He shrugged, then moved his chair, leaving Betty pouting with disappointment behind him.

Denied. 

“Nice suit, Bets.”

“That old thing?” Veronica sniffed. Betty tsked. Veronica shot her a wink to let her know she was messing with her.

“It looks okay,” Archie assured her. It looked more than okay, frankly, considering that Betty blossomed over the summer. Had he noticed? Shoot, were Smurfs blue? Of course he had. The blonde tomboy was trying to look cool, pretending interest in the Vogue magazine in her lap, sipping on a Diet Coke.

“Who do you have for home room?” Veronica asked Archie. “I just got my schedule in the mail.”

“I don’t know yet,” he shrugged. “It’s weird. I’m excited about this year, but it’s still gonna kinda suck.”

“No more recess,” Betty pointed out.

“Are you kidding? We get to switch classes every period.”

“I get to try out for football,” Archie decided. “But I’m not ready for anything else.”

“We have to start all over again,” Betty mourned. “It’s like being in kindergarten all over again. The eighth graders are gonna hate us.”

“They won’t hate me,” Veronica declared. “It’s not like I’m some loser. I’ve already got a lot of friends who started at Riverdale Junior last year, so I’m set.”

“I’m not.” Betty sounded miserable.

“Don’t worry about it. Hello? You’re my friend. That’s all the cred you need.” Betty still wasn’t convinced.

“Can’t get much more cred than that,” Archie agreed. 

“Hey, Archie, aren’t you going to the lake with Chuck?”

“Huh? Nah.” Archie helped himself to the Chee-Tohs. “I’m calling him in a minute. I’m cool here.”

“Betty? Don’t you have to go to a doctor’s appointment?” Veronica reminded her as she got up from her chaise. There was a weird, pleading look on her face.

“Not for another half hour.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to be late.” Betty scowled.

“I haven’t been here that long.”

“You’ve got an appointment?” Archie sounded disappointed, but Veronica recovered quickly, distracting him.

“School physical,” Betty clarified, but she was hoping to change the subject. “Have you gone school shopping yet?”

“Nah. Mom’s taking me tomorrow.” Archie gave her a long-suffering look, and Betty giggled.

“Maybe she’ll get you some cool gear.”

“Betty, don’t miss your appointment!” Betty felt a flash of indignance toward her friend, and she saw the cajoling, insistent gleam in Veronica’s dark eyes.

Sheesh… Betty knew when she wasn’t wanted, but it irked her.

Betty took her beach towel to the cabana with her and tossed a “See you later” over her shoulder, trying to walk as gracefully as possible across the hot cement in her bare feet. 

“Later, Bets.”

“Call me later,” Veronica reminded her cheerfully. Betty scornfully wondered to herself, Why? So she could fill her ear about Archie, when Betty herself was getting the boot. She glanced back longingly toward the pool and her friends. Archie was tossing pretzels in the air and catching them in his mouth, copying Jughead’s usual trick. When Veronica caught her eye, she made an emphatic shooing motion with her hand and mouthed “GO!” Betty made a face and stalked into the cabana to change.

By the time she came out, skates and all, Veronica and Archie were already in the pool, playing Marco Polo. They ignored her as she coasted down the driveway full speed. Smithers caught her eye and waved goodbye from the front yard, and she spared him a weak smile.

By the time she met her mother and headed to her appointment, Betty couldn’t decide which boy had been the bigger jerk, and which one failed more miserably to meet her expectations.


	2. Too Cool for School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve-year-old girl = Interested in boys. Twelve-year-old boy = Clueless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I’m really fishing here. I HATED being twelve. Prepubescent, easily embarrassed, totally crushing on a cute guy who began ignoring me once I turned eleven, no longer the owner of a cute button nose or agreeable hair, and the victim of itchy training bras that showed through my shirts. Life sucked. I can see a nice girl like Betty dealing with some of the same issues, and a boy like Reggie wanting nothing to do with her quite yet. Give the lad time…

“There’s Betty,” Ethel called out excitedly, pointing across the quad. She cupped her hand around her mouth and called out, “BETS! OVER HERE!” The blonde turned at the sound of her name and gave her friends a relieved smile. She hurried over, almost stumbling in her new shoes, a pair of one-inch pumps that weren’t meant for running in the grass. Ethel, Maria, Nancy and Sabrina were grinning as she caught up to them. Ethel glomped her, crushing her in her bony embrace.

“OOF!”

“You look great!”

“Thanks!”

“Girl, I love those shoes,” Nancy exclaimed. “I almost got that pair, but I was saving my money for a pair of DC’s.” She nodded down at the spanking new pair of black sneakers with the big white logo, and Betty nodded.

“I wanted some of those, too. These hurt. They need breaking in.”

“You’re supposed to do that the week before you wear them out,” Ethel reminded her. “But they look nice!”

“Ethel, you GREW.”

“I know,” she moaned. “I’m a giant. I hate it.”

“Are you kidding? We need you to play ball this year,” Nancy reminded her. “You can be our center.”

“Nah. I’m going out for cross-country this year. I’ve been running all summer.”

“You got your braces.”

“I know,” she grumbled. “The first week, they hurt. I’m getting used to them now.” Ethel Mugg’s overbite was legend. “They let me pick out the colors I wanted, at least.” The posts were blue and pink when she grinned to show her friends.

“Ay, mami! Que chula!” Maria assured her, hugging her.

“Stop!” But Ethel was enjoying the attention. She snuck looks at all of her friends, bemoaning the fact that all of them had developed more than she had. Ethel's chest was still abysmally flat, and she had no hips to speak of. When she looked in the mirror, she saw an ironing board in faded jeans. She was already five-seven and showed no signs of stopping her growth spurt.

Maria and Nancy weren't feeling her pain. Both of them had blossomed over the summer, sprouting curves, lusher, thicker hair and glowing dark skin. Maria's mother was more liberal in her views about cosmetics, so Maria was already allowed to wear colored nail polish, mascara and dark lipstick, something that Nancy envied, however. She also wore large gold hoops in her ears, a gift from her favorite aunt. She'd been working her way up from the dainty, dime-sized ones she wore everyday as early as kindergarten, graduating by a few millimeters in diameter every year.

Sabrina was still Sabrina. Her style was quirky, but certainly appropriate enough that she wouldn't get sent home to change. She still wore her platinum blonde hair in the chin-length bob with long bangs that Betty remembered, but her freckles stood out less on her fair skin. "Want some gum?" She held out a pack of fruity Trident, but Betty shook her head.

"I won't have time to enjoy it."

"Take it for later," Sabrina shrugged, pressing a stick of it into Betty's palm. Betty nodded briefly and tucked it into her pocket. "Where's Ronnie?"

"She's coming. I just got off the phone with her before I headed out the door."

"Oooh! What's she wearing?" Ethel demanded.

"She couldn't make up her mind yesterday. I was at her house for two hours." Betty rolled her eyes. She loved Veronica with all her heart, but watching her walk in, then out, then in, then out again from her walk-in closet, throwing countless selections across her bed for Betty to help her sort through left her tired, jealous, and made her head spin. By the time she found an outfit she was halfway satisfied with, Betty was nearly buried in an avalanche of skirts, pedal pushers, shorts and tank tops. Veronica's maid, Fifi, merely smiled and rolled her eyes as she came in to pick all of it up. Betty was scandalized; her mother would never let her get away with messing up her room, let alone throwing her good clothes everywhere.

"Wow," Nancy marveled. "Must be nice to have it like that."

"Having everything isn't everything," Sabrina sniffed. Betty was surprised. Sabrina didn't sound particularly jealous, even though Betty knew that anyone else in Sabrina's situation might feel that way. Sabrina Spellman's parents disappeared when she was still little, leaving her in the care of her two single aunts, two older ladies who had the same penchant for "vintage" clothes that Sabrina did. They were eccentric, but Betty thought they were relatively nice the one time that she met them. They certainly weren't rich, but Sabrina never seemed to want for anything important. She spent just as much time as her friends at the movies and went on all of the school field trips, but she spent considerably less time at the mall.

"There she is!" Maria cried, pointing to the back of the school's parking lot. Betty shook her head and smiled at the gleaming black Rolls-Royce as it rolled smoothly up to the courtyard. "Wow!"

"Show-off," Betty murmured, adjusting her purse strap over her shoulder when it started to slide down. Her big entrance had the desired effect. Everyone in the courtyard stopped what they were doing and ogled and pointed at the luxury car, waiting to see who stepped out. Mr. Lodge's chauffeur, Davis, climbed out briskly and circled the car to open the left-side passenger door, handing over a black Jansport backpack to the young brunette as he helped her out of the car.

Veronica leaned back for a moment. "Hold on." She gave her father a quick kiss on the cheek. His whiskers tickled, and he smelled like Burberry aftershave. "Bye, Daddy."

"I love you, sweetie. Be good. Make me proud."

"I will," she assured him with a roll of her eyes. Hiram sighed as she ran to join her friends, who automatically squealed upon her arrival. They all started talking a mile a minute and jumping up and down.

"Good grief." 

"Things would have been different if you'd had a son, sir," Davis reminded him.

"A daughter keeps me on my toes." They pulled out of the lot, and he felt resigned and bereft. His little girl was growing up too fast.

Her outfit wasn't helping matters, and she was so excited about it, pleading with him so desperately that he couldn't say no. The price tag on the little minidress sent him into sticker shock.

"You spent this much on so little fabric? I've seen more cotton in an aspirin bottle!"

"Daddikins! It's cute! It's the new thing."

"You'll catch a cold!"

"It's still summer!" Veronica pouted. Hiram tried to look away. "Daddy!" She stomped her foot. 

Great. The pout. She had to give him the pout. He growled under his breath, then sighed. She let out a high-pitched squeal and jumped up and down, hugging him briefly before running upstairs with her outfit. "What have I done?" he asked himself miserably. Hermione was already pouring him a glass of aged scotch. 

"Double?"

"Only if you have one with me."

 

Veronica preened, letting her friends touch the dress and fiddle with her bangles and earrings. "Nice tan," Ethel said admiringly.

"Nice teeth, Brace Face," Ron joked, reaching out to tickle her. Ethel yelped and swatted her. "I worked hard on it all summer."

"I didn't," Nancy informed her, striking a silly pose and primping her hair.

The first bell rang, cutting across the din in the courtyard. The crowd of students gradually swarmed toward the front doors, funneling into the main hall. All of Riverdale Junior's seventh graders filed inside with butterflies in their guts, peering around at the unfamiliar surroundings that seemed less daunting when they had gone on the field trip during middle school. No recess. Different classrooms for every subject. No more being classroom helper for the day, no spelling bees, and you would need a hall pass every time you had to go to the nurse's office or the bathroom.

Betty felt slightly sick.

She heard a crush of young male voices behind her and felt someone approach her quickly, and Betty squealed in surprise and pain as her bra was snapped mercilessly against her back. She spun on Reggie, who backed up, holding up his hands. Betty felt her cheeks go deep scarlet.

"Wasn't me. They went that way," he claimed, and his dark eyes danced despite his solemn expression.

"What?" she hissed in disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? What'd you do that for?"

"I told you, Cooper, it wasn't me." Behind him, Chuck, Moose, Harvey and Bingo chortled and gave her mock expressions of fear. Betty was mortified and stunned.

"What's wrong with you? Get away from me!" she snapped, and she punctuated her demand with a little shove against his chest.

"No rough housing," the assistant principal warned her.

"He started it!"

"Don't goad him by reacting to it. Get to class, all of you." He nodded to the boys, and they dispersed, fanning out to find their home rooms and locker assignments. Betty peered back over her shoulder, and she caught Reggie watching her departure. She glared at him as fiercely as she could manage.

He laughed and disappeared around the corner.

How could he do that? Betty fumed all the way to her homeroom, Room 116. She drifted inside and saw that two thirds of the seats were already filled. There were so many unfamiliar faces, but she remembered that a lot of kids were transferring from Pembroke, Midvale and Central's middle schools, too. She noticed a familiar looking strawberry blonde and approached her shyly. "Sam?" The girl's blue eyes lit up and she grinned at her, patting the chair beside hers.

"Betty! Hi! Sit here."

"Yay!" She took the seat quickly and set down her backpack, relieved to solve the question of where to sit. "I'm scared out of my wits."

"Me, too. It's so weird being here. I don't know where any of my classes are. I almost got lost just getting here."

"I hope I can find everything else."

"You looked mad when you first came in here." Samantha Smythe leaned back in her chair and dangled her arm over the back of it, twisting around to watch Betty. "What happened? Got a beef with somebody already?"

"Nah. It's just... guys are jerks." Samantha nodded sagely.

"Ah. I gotcha."

"It was Reggie! He snapped my straps!"

"Jerk," Sam tsked. "It's like they have X-ray vision once you get a bra, but you can't not wear one, or they really make fun of you."

"Ew," Betty agreed, wrinkling her nose. "That's so gross."

"Tell me about it. But going to the store with my mom for bras sucked. She wanted to buy me plain white."

"Ouch." Betty was relieved that her mother allowed her to pick out the colors she wanted, even if they were still just cotton that hooked in the back. Nothing exciting, no demi cups or underwires, front hooks or lace. But at least they weren't plain white sports bras that were just a step above an undershirt.

What Reggie did still rankled. It wasn't just that he embarrassed her in front of his friends, it was his face... he was daring her to do something about it. And what was up with that look on his face? What happened to the Reggie she threw a ball around with all summer?

She mulled it over and made small talk with Sam until the teacher took roll call. All of the sudden, her day and her fate came into sharp focus.

There was no turning back. Betty was a junior high schooler, and it scared the crap out of her.

*

 

"Bets!" Jughead called out, waving her down in the cafeteria. It was sixth period, and Betty was starving, but she had survived so far. English first, followed by pre-algebra and study hall; so far, so good. But Betty hated having gym class so early in the day. Even though they hadn't done anything to exert themselves the first day, Betty didn't relish having to rush to dress down in uniforms, get all sweaty, then rush to shower and go back to class with jacked-up hair. Her fourth and fifth periods were combined in a "double," and she had Ronnie in her history class, which was a relief.

She dutifully stopped by his table and set down her pack. "Got any change?" he inquired hopefully before offering her any greeting. She rolled her eyes and dug in her purse.

"Not much. I've got a quarter, and that's it."

"That's fine. Now I'll have enough for a pizza. Sweet!" He rubbed his hands together as she handed over the money. "You rock, as usual."

"Kiss-up."

"C'mon. Let's get in line before it's all gone."

"Can the girls sit here? Are you waiting for anybody?"

"Nah. Just Dilton." 

"Cool. I haven't run into him yet today."

"He's in my science class. He was going to be in my pre-algebra class, but they moved him to algebra instead." Betty blinked.

"Algebra? This year?"

"Yup."

"Wow. He's so smart."

"It's scary," Jughead agreed. "I went over to his house this summer, and he was working on a fighting robot."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. It was cool. Chuck painted a skull on its chassis, it looked sweet!"

"At's-whay up-ay, etty-Bay?" Betty chuckled as Dilton approached them, stooped beneath the weight of a huge backpack that was already fully loaded. He pushed his glass up on his nose and grinned at Betty. "Nice shoes."

"Nice pig Latin."

"Anks-thay. I can speak elvish, too. And Klingon."

"I don't have a dictionary for either," she admitted.

"I can teach you some," he offered hopefully. Dilton admired Betty's outfit, liking her simple denim skirt, black Old Navy tee and the little pumps that were still, unfortunately, pinching her toes. He'd always liked Betty, since she was one of the only girls who didn't tease him about his diminutive height or call him "Baby Einstein." His cheeks pinkened a bit as he noticed the changes that summer brought in her figure.

Betty Cooper was a fox.

They headed for the lunch line, and Betty decided on pizza, too, since they had just put out a fresh batch. "Betty! BETTY! Wait for me!" She heard Veronica's voice over her shoulder and watched her elbow her way through the crowd in the serving area. She cut in front of Betty and reached for a Jello. 

"Back of the line, Princess," Jughead protested.

"Sheesh." Dilton was appalled. "Don't cut!"

"She's my BFF, so she'll let me cut," Veronica explained simply, and her smile was smug. Betty rolled her eyes.

"I waited for you. Where have you been?"

"I was doing my hair. I just had PE."

"Did they even make you do anything today?"

"No. Just permission slips, reading the rules, getting our locker, and listening to Coach Kleats bore us to death. I just wanted to fix my hair. How's it look?"

"Good."

"It's not too big? I wanted it a little poofy." Veronica's hair reeked of Paul Mitchell.

"It's fine."

"Good." Veronica reached for a tuna salad and wrinkled her nose at Betty's tray. "You're eating that?"

"Why not?"

"It's loaded with grease, that's why not. Ick."

"You just blot some of it off," Betty shrugged.

"Speak for yourself. That's perfectly good grease," Jughead countered. It had the desired effect: Veronica made a sour face of disgust just for him. For as long as either of them could remember, Jughead and Veronica couldn't stand each other.

"Come on," Veronica cut in as they paid for their food. "Let's sit in B side." The cafeteria was divided up into two suites, and they were in A side for the moment.

"I'm already sitting down over there."

"So grab your stuff," Veronica told her dismissively. "Midge and Maria are already over there. So's Josie, Melody, Valerie," Veronica added, ticking them off on her fingers. "And Archie, too."

"Arch is gonna come hang with us," Jughead told her arrogantly. His best bud wouldn't desert him for Veronica the Social Climber.

"We're talking about cheerleading tryouts. They're next week," Veronica continued as though Jughead hadn't spoken. "Arch says he's going out for football." She eyed Jughead derisively. "He's already over in B side. C'mon, Betty. Meet me over there."

"Wow. That was impressive." Dilton adjusted his glasses again and shook his head. "Thirty seconds in her presence, and I feel ignored AND insignificant."

"And disgusted. Don't forget disgusted," Jughead reminded him.

"She's not bad," Betty argued as she grabbed up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she balanced her lunch tray.

"You're taking off?" Jughead sounded disappointed.

"I'll never hear the end of it if I don't go," Betty admitted. "See you guys later, okay?"

"Bye, Bets," Dilton grumbled.

"Poor little sheep," Jughead muttered. "Baa, baa, baa."

 

Betty caught up to Veronica at one of the round tables in the center of the cafeteria (no surprise). She was surrounded by their friends and a few other girls she didn't recognize. Some of them seemed older and more made up, wearing their hair more elaborately and sporting short dresses and skirts like Veronica's. To Betty's jaundiced eye, all of them seemed to have money.

"Betty, this is Bryce. And this is Lacey. They transferred in from Pembroke," Veronica explained. They popped their gum at Betty and waved, looking bored, but Veronica was oblivious.

"Hi."

"Nice shoes," Lacey mentioned casually. "Where'd you get them?"

"Famous Footwear. They were on sale."

"Oh. Sure, they were. That's nice." Bryce elbowed her, and they shared a tight little smile that excluded Betty from the joke.

"CHERYL!" Lacey ignored her and cupped her hand around her mouth, calling across the room. A tall girl with carroty red hair turned toward her voice and smirked, breaking away from the girls she was hanging out with. Betty's gut twisted.

This girl looked like the leader of the pack, and she had a smug quality about her, secure in the fact that she was the most entitled one in the room.

"Wow," Ethel murmured.

"Homegirl's spoiled," Nancy agreed. As she approached, they noticed that Cheryl's outfit read like a mall directory. Tee shirt by Aeropostale. Jeans skirt by Hot Topic. Purse by Coach. Ethel coughed and choked on the scent of her cologne, turning away from it so she wouldn't notice her fanning the air. It didn't matter; Cheryl patently ignored the tall, gawky brunette and sized up everyone else.

"What's the deal?" she demanded of her friends. "You were supposed to meet me at my locker."

"We stopped there. You were gone."

"You were supposed to wait."

"Sorry." They looked ashamed. Betty's brows flew up, and she and Nancy shared a look, shrugging. As often as she gave Veronica the right of way in their friendship, she never treated Betty like that. Ever.

"You're right. You are," she tsked, making them talk to the hand. 

"I'm Ronnie," Veronica volunteered. "I have that bag at home."

"Leave it there. Don't copy me."

"As if." Veronica wrinkled her nose. "Are you serious?"

"Seriously. Don't copy me."

"That's funny. You wish you could be me."

"Not even." Both girls were smiling, but it didn't reach their eyes. Cheryl's glowed with green fire; Veronica's were blue ice chips.

"What school did you guys come here from?" Betty inquired politely. Cheryl tsked in her direction.

"Hello? Pembroke, where do you think? My dad MADE me transfer here instead of letting me go to Pembroke Prep. I hate public school." She made Riverdale Junior sound like the seventh ring of hell.

"Poor baby." Veronica was unsympathetic.

"Like you'd know."

"I do know. Pembroke sucks." Cheryl's eyes snapped open wide.

"Bitch."

"Wannabe."

"Let's get out of here," Cheryl snarled at her friends. Bryce and Lacey looked slightly embarrassed but followed her away from the table.

"Good riddance," Veronica grumbled, waving after them with a fake smile. 

"That was... educational," Ethel decided.

"And brief," Nancy told her. "Thank goodness..."

"Okay. I don't like them," Midge announced. "Who's with me?" There was a show of hands around the table. Betty felt remorse at having left Jug and Dilt in the other cafeteria until she heard a male voice that she craved all day long.

"Hey!" Archie sauntered over and set down his bag without being invited, and they automatically made room for him. Veronica lit up and practically shoved the chair beside her under his butt. Betty sighed.

He looked really cute. Archie wore slouchy jeans and a white tee with a graphic of Skyrim on the front; the back of it said "I used to be an adventurer like you, but then I took an arrow to the knee." Betty had no clue what that meant, but it didn't matter much to her. Archie was peeling slightly and his skin was still a little red from his annual summer sunburn, almost matching his coppery hair. He'd grown taller and broader in the shoulder since middle school, and his voice cracked once in a while when he spoke. Betty thought he sounded cool.

Archie made no bones about being the only guy at the table, but he wondered where his best friend was. "Seen Jug anywhere?"

"I just saw him, he was-" Veronica cut her off sharply.

"He said he'd catch up to you later."

"Hm. Okay." Archie went back to eating his fries, grinning and mock-threatening to smack Veronica's hand when she stole one. "Me, Reg and Chuck went to the movies yesterday and saw the new Sherlock Holmes."

"Sweet," Betty answered hopefully. "That one looked good."

"It was awesome!" Before Archie could elaborate, Veronica cut in again.

"I want to see the new Twilight movie." Archie pulled a face and pretended to stick his fingers down his throat. "What? I love them!"

"That's because you're a girl," Archie pointed out. "Those movies suck." Betty snickered as she took a bite of her pizza. He was right; they did suck.

"Betty, tell him to shut up!" Ronnie insisted. Betty shrugged, indicating that she had a mouthful. "Tell him!"

"Well, they do," Archie replied simply.

"I'm on Team Jake," Ethel admitted dreamily. "He looks great with no shirt!"

"Ew," Archie grimaced. "Hello? Guy, here." He chucked his napkin onto his plate and scooted his chair back. "I'm gonna bail. Jug's looking for me. Later!" Betty pouted but waved after him.

"Hmmph," Veronica complained. "He didn't have to leave."

That didn't stop the girls from turning back to topics of interest such as nail color, shoes, the entire Twilight series, and their fledgling experiences with PMS.

There were some things boys just didn't understand.

*

 

Betty walked home, regretting her choice of shoes for the bajillionth time that day. The afternoon was warm, the remainder of a perfect early fall day, and she yearned to go to the beach. But her backpack was heavy with school books, so that was a no.

She was mere steps from her front walk when she heard the whizz of bike wheels behind her and felt someone breeze past her arm by a mere hair. Reggie skidded to a stop in front of her, blocking her way. He smirked. Betty glared.

"Hmmph. Excuse me, I'd like to go inside my house."

"What? You can't talk to me? You're in a hurry to do homework?"

"Um, yeah."

"Goody-goody."

"Get out of the way, Reggie," she said sourly. But he blocked her way again, still straddling his bike and walking it across her path. "Reggie!"

"You still mad?"

"What do you think?"

"Aw, c'mon," he laughed. "It was funny!"

"No, it wasn't!" Her cheeks flamed again with embarrassment. "You were being a jerk!"

"Bets... everybody does it," he tsked.

"Whatever. Goodbye," she snapped, but he got in her way again, and she stomped her foot at him like she would do with a yappy dog.

"Ooooh. Scary."

"Leave me alone. Or at least let me go inside."

"Why're you so grumpy?"

"I wanna get out of these shoes. They're killing me." He peered down at them and grimaced.

"Ouch... what is it with you girls and shoes?"

"What? They're cute."

"But you just said they hurt."

"I have to break them in."

"But that means you have to wear them again. They'll hurt the next time, too."

"You break them in until they don't hurt."

"That's stupid. Buy a pair of shoes that doesn't hurt in the first place."

"You don't get it."

"How don't I get it?"

"Because you're a guy." Betty decided he was delaying her efforts to kick back, and she went ahead and stepped out of the shoes. "I'm going inside now."

"Put your shoes inside," he shrugged, finally wheeling back onto the grass to let her up the front walk. It was funny to see her bare feet with their toenails glossed in shiny pink, but it drew his attention to her long, creamy legs in the short denim skirt. 

"I'm going in."

"Come hang outside."

"Homework," she reminded him. "Hello?"

"Do it out here." Betty frowned.

"Why?"

"Dunno. C'mon. Put your shoes inside," he repeated. "Got anymore popsicles?"

"I think so."

"Cherry?"

"Maybe."

"Hurry up." Assuming that he'd won back her good will, Reggie put down the kickstand on his bike and parked it in Betty's driveway. She made a sound of confusion and keyed her way into the house, dropping her shoes beside the side table in the hall.

She decided to change into some shorts and flip-flops while she was at it; wearing the skirt wouldn't work out with sitting on the front porch steps or hanging out on the Coopers' lawn furniture. She padded back down to the kitchen and hunted around in the freezer, finding some popsicles; there was one cherry left. Betty settled for the orange, tasting it as soon as she unwrapped them both. When she came back out to the porch, Reggie already had his day planner open. He squinted up at her and frowned.

"Why'd you change?"

"I like my shorts better when I'm at home."

"Eh. Whatever." She handed him the popsicle and held hers in her mouth while she rooted through her pack. Reggie snuck another quick glance at her legs, but he turned away quickly before she pulled out her pre-algebra text.

They worked on their homework companionably, arguing once in a while about mundane things. Her parents' arrival home broke up their debate on which Marvel comic movie was the best, when Reggie had to move his bike out of the driveway. 

"I've gotta take off, anyway," he explained. "Later."

"Okay," she murmured, disappointed.

She was more confused than ever. At home, he was fine. At school, he was a jerk.

What was up with that?


	3. Elective Credit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shenanigans.

"Betty, where were you?" Veronica demanded. Betty paused in rummaging through her locker for her social studies book. "I waited for you in Miss Beazley's class, but you never showed up."

"I'm not in her class this semester," Betty explained.

"What? Betty, you promised we were going to take it with me. I had to partner up with Midge," she complained.

"Midge is okay."

"She's not you," Veronica pouted. "Which section of home ec are you in?"

"None of them. I signed up for wood shop."

"SHOP? Are you KIDDING?"

"No. I wanted to take it this year."

"But... that's ridiculous. Shop class." Betty nodded and grinned. "Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Girls don't take shop," Veronica pointed out.

"Ethel and Nancy are taking it next semester," Betty shrugged. "Should be fun. You should switch and be in my class."

"Pfft... no. No way am I getting sawdust all over my clothes, and it stinks in there." Veronica was right; the shop lab smelled like varnish and polyurethane; she'd heard Moose joking about sneaking in after hours to huff the fumes.

"I want to build one of those little plant stands for my mom. I can give it to her for her birthday."

"Just buy one," Veronica snorted.

"That defeats the purpose. I get two credits."

"I still can't believe you're taking shop."

"It's no big deal. Can I just point out one thing, since I know you're not going to let me hear the end of it?"

"Point away."

"Archie's taking shop." Veronica had been about to shake a mint Tic-Tac into Betty's palm, but she paused, box hovering in mid-air. 

"ARCHIE'S taking it??"

"Well, yeah. You said there aren't any girls taking it, but Ron... c'mon. What's wrong with that?"

"Are there any more empty spots?"

 

*

"You're taking home ec again?" Archie demanded. Jughead wound up his iPod's ear buds and crammed them into the pocket of his hoodie. 

"Yup."

"You took it last quarter."

"I asked to take it again. It was easy."

"What's wrong with shop?"

"What's wrong with home ec?" he challenged. "Let's see. Fiddle around with tools. Make an ash tray, which I won’t use. Make a planter shelf, which, oh yeah, I won‘t use. Or, fiddle around with food. Make food. Eat food. I can't make up my mind..." Jughead gave his best friend a clueless look. Archie shook his head. "I'm surprised you're not clamoring to get into home ec again. It's full of girls."

"That why you're taking it?" Archie accused.

"Pffftt... no. Get bent."

*

Ethel hung on every word of their home ec teacher's lesson, scribbling down the recipe in her notebook. She kept sneaking looks at Jughead from the corner of her eye, glad she managed to get the table behind his. She lost out on the seat beside him when his cousin Bingo ended up in class the first day, because wood shop was full. She felt indignant, but having a ringside seat to admire him was a fine consolation prize. It wasn’t technically stalking, was it?

Eighth grade hadn't brought many changes in Ethel's status; she was still single and had never been kissed. To add insult to injury, she'd grown another inch in height but hadn't gained a cup size, something she resented that much more when her mother took her shopping for the semi-formal mixer. She was excited for it, yet she dreaded it.

Jughead steadfastly ignored her. Every time she saw him, her stomach took flight with butterflies and little hiccups of pleasure, but as soon as she made eye contact with him successfully, she froze, began stammering, got sweaty palms, and inevitably embarrassed herself. 

Once in a while, her gaze would linger too long, and she would daydream, lovely images of the two of them holding hands in the library when they were supposed to be studying, having Oreos in her kitchen, sitting together in a darkened movie theater... they were pipe dreams. She imagined what it would be like to kiss him, and if it would feel like a scene out of Degrassi. Sometimes, her reverie was cruelly dashed to bits when he felt her eyes at his back. For one split second his pupils would dilate with recognition, and brief thrills of anticipation would quicken her pulse, but his mouth would twist in distaste, destroying any and all semblance of hope.

"What're you looking at?"

"Nothing," she would mutter. "Uh... there was a fly, buzzing around your head. It's gone now."

"Suuuure there was," Bingo drawled once in reply, smirking at her discomfort. Ethel would pretend to be engrossed in her notebook, cheeks flaming and cursing her lack of self-control, wishing for one of Riverdale's rumored sinkholes to open up beneath her and end her misery. Bingo enjoyed her awkwardness and the opportunity to laugh at her expense where his cousin was concerned. Ethel was such a goof...

At least Nancy was her partner, so that gave her a reprieve from having to sit next to any of the Pembroke girls. Cheryl, Bryce and Lacey all took home ec and spent most of the notetaking time flipping through Marie Claire and applying makeup. Ethel wanted to feel jealous about it - her mother wasn't keen on letting her wear more than clear polish or pink lip gloss yet - but the girls were so nasty, it diminished their beauty in her eyes. Betty was just as pretty, and she didn't act like that, Ethel mused. Neither did Nancy, for that matter, but her dark-skinned friend was a straight-shooter and didn't tolerate nonsense from anyone, making her someone Ethel was grateful to have in her corner. Nancy could already cook pretty well, so the class would be a slam dunk.

Cheryl caught Ethel's wandering glance and made a rude face. "Quit looking over here, dog butt," she hissed. Miss Beazly turned from the blackboard, narrowing her eyes at Cheryl.

"You. Quiet while I'm giving the recipe. Don't make me give you detention this early in the game."

"But-"

"Ah-ah! Zip it!" Miss Beazly's bony fingers made "I'm watching you" motions toward her eyes, and she pointed at her, cutting off her argument. "That's enough out of you, Sassy Pants." 

"Sassy pants?" Nancy murmured, snorting. Ethel snickered behind her hand. Miss Beazly's eyes flitted over them briefly, too.

"Pipe down over there." The girls straightened up, but their effort to wipe away their smirks was unsuccessful. Cheryl gave Ethel a dirty look and bent over her notebook diligently. Ethel was nearly finished transcribing it when she felt something bounce off the back of her head. She whipped around, but the partners immediately behind her were writing, not even looking at her. She turned back around, but felt another offending tap, this time noticing a tiny spitball landing on the floor. Ethel hissed in annoyance, and turned again, muttering "Quit it, whoever it is!"

"What's going on?" Miss Beazly accused.

"I'm getting spitballed," Ethel complained.

"Fine," Miss Beazly decided briskly. "Next spitball earns somebody detention." Her steely gray eyes scanned the class. "Are we clear?" Ethel thought she heard a smothered snicker behind her and toward her left. She chanced a look and found Fangs Fogarty looking away, suddenly interested in the set of teaspoons at his work station. He felt her gaze and returned it with feigned annoyance.

"What?" he mouthed, shrugging at her. Ethel frowned at the page of slightly torn paper in front of him; the top corner had a jagged edge. Her cheeks flamed, and she turned away from him, determined to ignore him.

He made that difficult, even on the best of days. Fangs was the scourge of the playground at Riverdale Elementary, the kind of kid the other boys befriended in an effort to avoid being his next target. 

Amusement danced in his brown eyes, and his fingers busied themselves making another spitball under his desk. Beside him, Ambrose doodled sketches in his notebook of aliens and pirates while he was supposed to be taking down the recipe. Ambrose's eyes flicked over at what he was doing, and his sigh was long-suffering.

"You're gonna get in trouble," he whispered.

"So?" he challenged. "I love messing with her."

"That's messed up." Ambrose shook his head. 

"Go back to Roswell, freak," Fangs countered. 

"I hear my time being wasted," Miss Beazly warned sternly as she paused in her lesson. "Mr. Fogarty," she snapped.

"Ma'am."

"Repeat back to me what I just told the class."

"Uh..."

"That's not what I told the class. You don't have a clue, do you?"

"Um... knead the dough, but not too many times?"

"Nice try. We're doing sauced vegetables in this lesson, though."

"Uh..."

"That'll be enough out of you. I'm taking ten points off your score for the day. That means you, too, Ambrose. I see you doodling over there." 

"Aw, man."

"Big deal," Fangs muttered under his breath. Ambrose elbowed him.

"Thanks a lot," he whispered back.

Ethel faced the front of the class, smiling a smug little smile.

*

Betty carefully traced the pattern onto her plank with the number two pencil while Mr. Krosskut explained the table saw to Moose. His plank was already marked, and he had his safety goggles on, propped up on his forehead like sunglasses. Betty was impressed to see the burly jock engrossed in their teacher's instruction for a change, instead of wearing a glazed look or goofing off.

"Go ahead and put those on, son," Mr. Krosskut told him, nodding to his goggles. Moose obeyed him and then lined up the plank on the platform. He flicked on the power switch, filling the room with the saw’s cacophony. Betty winced at the grating whine of the blade slicing through the wood. Moose guided it easily, cutting away the scraps and smoothing the edges by tiny increments. “Nice work, son.” Moose nodded his thanks and headed to the supply drawers to get himself a piece of sandpaper.

Archie and Reggie were horsing around off to the side, arguing which Mortal Kombat character had the best fatality. Betty watched them wistfully, almost feeling left out.

She jumped a mile when someone poked her sharply in her side; she was horrendously ticklish. Betty whirled on Chuck, who was looking entirely too pleased with himself. Betty reached out and slugged him in the chest.

“You hit like a girl!”

“Jerk,” she hissed.

“Scared you good.”

“Did not. I hate being tickled!” Betty stood in the short line of people getting ready to use the saw, letting her goggles hang from her neck.

“Hey, Bets. Do me a favor?”

“Why?” Betty gave him a flip look and planted her hand on her hip. Chuck rocked back on his heels and rubbed his nape, grinning at her.

“C’mon,” Chuck wheedled. “I was just messing with you. Don’t be mad.”

“Whatever.”

“Get me Nancy’s number?” His voice lowered to a murmur.

“Wait… what?” Betty whirled on him again, and her blue eyes widened mischievously. “Nancy? You LIKE-“ Chuck shushed her hastily, glancing around to see if anyone was listening.

“Don’t let the whole world know, girl! Sheesh,” he admonished hastily. “Just ask her if I can call her.”

“Hmmmm…” Betty smirked and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t know if I should…”

“C’monnnnn!” Chuck whined, rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands. “You can do this for me, Bets. It’s one little favor.” Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in close.

“Is it a repayable favor?” 

“Wait… by ‘repayable,’ what are we talking?”

“Nothing special, _yet._ …”

“Ooh. Nothing illegal or freaky, right? All I want is her number…” Betty slugged his arm this time.

“Nothing freaky. Hello? Not a freak, here. It’s no big deal. I’ll ask her if you can call her.” Moose finished his turn at the saw, and Jinx moved up next.

“You’re scaring me, Bets. You didn’t say nothing illegal, either.”

“I wouldn’t get you in trouble. You know that.” Betty pouted up at him, and he clapped her shoulder cheerfully.

“Solid!” Chuck glanced around again, then spoke near her ear. “So, what’s her number?”

“Let me ask her first, then I’ll give it to you. I see her next period.”

Their exchange broke off abruptly at the sour squeal of the saw, and Betty caught Jinx’s briefly muttered “Shit!” as a chunk of wood broke loose and flew across the room. She caught Archie ducking out of the corner of her eye, and Mr. Krosskut slapped the off switch to the saw. Betty clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled.

“When that dude was born, he probably set the hospital on fire,” Chuck guessed.

“Be nice,” Betty hissed. Jinx Molloy enjoyed a love affair with Misfortune, both enduring and constant. Archie earned a reprieve from being Riverdale Junior’s residence klutz whenever Jinx stumbled into a room. Dollar bets were made every time he left the cafeteria line with a tray, and they were won every time it went clattering all over the floor, whether he tripped over his laces or managed to stop in just the wrong place at precisely the wrong time. Betty pitied him, but she still kept her distance.

The door’s creak caught Betty’s attention, and Veronica strode inside, looking smug. She squealed briefly as she joined her bestie, grabbing her hand. “I told you I’d get to switch!”

“Hall pass?” Mr. Krosskut inquired dryly as he scratched his mustache.

“I just added this on. I switched out of home ec,” Veronica explained, adding, “My daddy just spoke to the principal.”

“Your daddy isn’t the one showing up ten minutes late for class,” he pointed out.

“They were printing up my new schedule in the office,” Veronica informed him, holding it up. He took it from her briefly.

“Hmmmm… changed to Wood Shop, eh?” He nodded to Betty. “She on the level, kiddo? Should I let her in? Think she’ll work out?”

“I’ll keep her in line,” Betty promised solemnly. Her expression was dry, and she could feel Veronica practically bursting beside her, despite the brunette’s pout.

“That’s my cue to go,” Chuck decided as he retreated to his work table.

“That’s my girl,” Mr. Krosskut agreed, giving Betty’s ponytail a tug. “Be glad she’s my star student,” he warned Veronica. “Betty’s got pull. Behave.”

“Of course. I’m a Lodge. I know how to conduct myself.” Veronica gave him her best lah-di-dah flounce.

“Good for you. Now, it’s time to learn how to build a plant shelf. Go pick out a plank.” Veronica automatically looped her hand around Betty’s arm and dragged her to the bin to select a board.

“Help me pick.” She rejected the first one she held up. “No. It’s got a hole in it.” She tried another. “Too dark.” She frowned and shook her head at the third. “It’s got a weird little burn mark in it. And look at that knothole.”

“Almost all of them have knotholes,” Betty told her in annoyance. “Just pick one.”

“There he is!” Veronica interjected. “He’s so hot!” Betty sighed and peered in Archie’s general direction. If Betty had to be honest, then yes, the redhead was looking rather yummy in his faded jeans and gray Hurley tee, his feet shod in red Chuck Taylors. 

“Pick your board,” Betty reminded her.

“Here, you do it, you’re good at that kind of thing!” Veronica hurried off, leaving Betty sorting through the bins.

“Wait… what?” Veronica sidled up to the object of Betty’s admiration and covered his eyes from behind. Betty watched their “guess who?” exchange with a modicum of disgust. Veronica pretended interest in Archie’s work table, asking him if she could copy his notes. Betty held her tongue; Archie hadn’t taken the best notes, and she would benefit from borrowing them if she actually wanted a decent grade. Betty decided she would let her bestie dig that hole all by herself, and if need be, jump right into it.

Betty yelped in annoyance as her shirt collar was yanked back at her nape and something rough flew under it, chafing her back. She danced and flailed in an attempt to shake it loose. “Yi-yieeEE! Ooh!” She turned in exasperation to meet Reggie’s face, the vision of innocence.

All except for that twinkle in those brown eyes. She longed to smack him.

She met the delicious curl of his smirk with a black scowl. “Jerk,” she hissed. “What’s wrong with you, Mantle?”

“What? I didn’t do anything,” he claimed nonchalantly. “Gotta be careful in shop class, Cooper. Watch out for flying wood.”

“You watch out,” she snapped as she shook out the tail of her top from her waistband and freed the tiny piece of broken dowel. She picked it up and threw it at him. He flinched out of the way, so it missed him, but his chuckle was delighted. Reggie got her goat, so his day was complete. Mr. Krosskut looked up from the saw and pointed at them both with V’d fingers, making the classic “I’m watching you” gesture.

“Betty, don’t make me give you a demerit. No horsing around and throwing things in my class.” Betty flushed an angry scarlet.

“He started it.”

“Don’t finish it,” he admonished, but he gave Reggie a stern look. “I’ve got a whole bag of demerits with your name on it if you don’t straighten up, Mantle. Understood?”

“Yup,” Reggie piped up soberly. When his teacher turned away, Reggie continued to harass her. He elbowed her, earning himself another frown.

“Why’d you girls even take shop? Why don’t you just go take cooking class?”

“I did that last year,” Betty huffed in annoyance. “I already got an A. Why take it again?”

“What are you going to do after this? Become a carpenter?”

“No. When I get to high school, I’m taking auto shop. Stuff it, Reggie.” His look was skeptical; he grunted in amusement.

“Sure. Rosie the Riveter. That’ll be the day.” He nodded to Veronica, who was ignoring the lesson in favor of freshening her lip gloss. “I know Ron’s not taking auto shop.” Betty sighed and marked her other two planks with a water soluble pen.

“Who’s taking auto shop?” Archie inquired, eavesdropping.

“Betty says she wants to be a grease monkey when she grows up,” Reggie told him.

“No, I didn’t! Quit it!” Betty brandished her hand, ready to smack him. Reggie pretended to duck. “Quit making stuff up!”

“She’s taking auto shop,” Reggie scoffed. Archie shrugged.

“Sounds good to me. When you’re a mechanic, you can give me a good deal,” Archie teased. “My dad keeps complaining about how the car needs a new transmission and how it’s gonna cost a fortune.”

“That old, beat-up station wagon?” Reggie shook his head. “That thing’s a heap. He should trade it in.”

“So?” Archie waved away the suggestion, frowning. “It still runs. When I can drive, I’m gonna save my money and get a classic car.”

“Nah. I’m gonna get a convertible,” Reggie bragged. Betty figured he would, too; his dad, Ricky Mantle, was the editor in chief of the town’s newspaper and made decent money. Reggie was an only child, and he was duly spoiled. Much like Veronica, he pretty much got whatever he wanted.

“If you can stand around talking, you can clean up. Tidy up those work tables and put your supplies away,” Mr. Krosskut barked. Reggie caught Archie’s eyes and pulled a goofy face. Archie snickered.

“Auto shop. We’ll get you some of those coveralls with your name sewn on the pocket,” Reggie told her.

“Get bent,” Betty snarled under her breath as she put away her ruler and T-square.

“Wouldn’t be any more out of style than what you have on,” Veronica teased, poking her. Betty gave her a wounded look.

“Shut up,” Betty insisted. Archie’s lips twisted; Reggie shook his head.

“Burned!” Betty waited for him to turn his back and found the scrap of wood dowel. She darted up behind him, grabbed a handful of his collar, and chucked the pellet down his neck. “HEY!” She skirted away from him before Mr. Krosskut could see her standing behind him. Their teacher gave them a hard look. Betty raised her brows innocently.

“Everything’s fine,” she claimed.

“What? She… did you see what she did? Betty’s horsing around!” Reggie claimed, pinning her with a frown, then looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth when he faced his teacher.

“Demerits, Mr. Mantle. Let it go.”

“But-“

“That’s enough!”

Betty flounced past him when the bell rang, and she skipped out of firing range as he chucked the dowel at her. She flicked one last glance back at him and stuck out her tongue.

*

Betty fumed her way home, pedaling like a maniac and relishing the sound of autumn leaves crackling under her wheels. What was Reggie’s deal? And why wasn’t Veronica saying anything to defend her? All she did was sit there, flirt with Archie, and put on her makeup! Betty wondered briefly why Veronica was still her bestie at times like these…

She parked her bike in the garage and keyed her way inside. Her parents’ cars weren’t in the driveway yet, which meant she could snack on what she wanted without any lectures about spoiling her dinner. Betty tugged her iPod Touch out of her purse and plugged it into the portable speaker in the kitchen, turning up the volume a little more than necessary. It was satisfying to be home alone with her thoughts.

“Meowr!” Caramel padded into the room and automatically rubbed against Betty’s legs, purring for attention and treats. Betty reached down and ruffled the middle-aged marmalade tabby’s thick fur.

“You’re so spoiled,” she remarked fondly. Betty went to the cupboard and fished out a can of Fancy Feast. She grimaced at the odor as she peeled back the lid. She swatted the cat down when she leapt up onto the counter. “You know better than that. Giddown, kitty. Be good.” Marmalade flicked her tail impatiently, crying for her dinner. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you…” Betty set the dish on the floor and watched the kitty attack it like no one ever fed her. She was getting roly-poly, and her winter coat was coming in.

Betty went to the fridge for a Coke and saw her mother’s Post-it note.

Go ahead and start dinner. Your father will be home at five, but I’m working late. Love you. XOXO

“Boooooo,” Betty muttered. That meant she’d have to finish the breakfast dishes, too, her least favorite chore. Lucky Veronica had a housekeeper that took care of everything like that; she acted like Betty was performing an arcane ritual when she set the table for dinner the night she invited her friend over.

Betty found a bowl of marinating chicken breasts and bag of broccoli florets. She preheated the oven and took out a can of biscuit dough, figuring that would suffice. Betty hummed along with her music while she located pots and pans. Just as she punctured the Pillsbury can and peeled back the label, jumping slightly as the dough exploded at her, she heard a raucous burst of laughter outside.

Feminine laughter. Piqued, she crept into the back hall and drew aside the curtain.

Reggie was pedaling his bike at a snail’s pace, while the new girl, Cricket, strolled alongside him. She was petite and freckled, and her red hair rivaled Archie’s, but she wore it in a messy little pixie cut. Betty’s cheeks flamed, and an ugly tingle spread through her chest. What was he doing riding along after her? Annoyance flavored that thought, but she couldn’t stop watching them interact, fascinated by the way Cricket was acting around him.

She hung on his every word, occasionally ducking her head when he said something silly. She paused in the street and giggled as Reggie circled her on his bike. It reminded Betty of a documentary she watched with her mother once about ducks during mating season. The drake would chase the female bird around the lake in slow circles, bobbing its head up and down in an attempt to flirt with and impress her. Once he felt there was an opportunity, the little, feathered rascal would pounce on her from behind. Betty never looked at waterfowl the same again…

They stopped, and Betty saw Cricket reach into her notebook and tear off a scrap of paper. Betty’s breath caught in suspense… she was going to give Reggie Mantle her number? Her cheeks flamed, and Betty felt a strange frisson of regret that it wasn’t her, and that the boy wasn’t Archie. Reggie obligingly gave her his back and crouched slightly; Cricket used him as a surface and scribbled her number on the tiny scrap, capping her pen and folding it up. Cricket’s face was flushed and smug, and she backed away from him slowly, dragging out their goodbye. It seemed like it took forever until Betty saw Reggie disappear from view. The low grind of his bike tires rolling up his driveway told her that the show was over.

“Wow.” Betty suddenly felt deprived. Her “frenemy” across the way beat her to the punch and had someone interested in him already. Betty wondered when her turn would come. Cricket looked so loopy and smitten that Betty wanted to gag, but it was intriguing to watch. Was that how it felt when a boy was interested in you and wanted your attention?

She couldn’t wait to find out.


	4. So Many Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reggie sees something from over the hedge that he can’t believe.

Miss Grundy checked her watch again and sighed, frustrated. She made a brief note on her clipboard and scanned the gym. Her other seven squad members looked bored and were resorting to their smartphones and makeup kits for distractions, their pom-poms heaped beside them in splashes of blue and gaudy yellow.

She opened her mouth to call her squad to order, but the heavy swish of the gym door stopped her. Veronica strolled inside without a care in the world, smart phone plastered to her ear. “Can we start now, Lodge?” Miss Grundy called out hopefully.

“In a minute,” Veronica assured her, missing her cheering coach’s attempt at sarcasm.

“No phones in my practice,” Miss Grundy reminded her sharply. The girls huddled around the floor quickly switched theirs off and stowed them away. Veronica grinned and nodded emphatically, holding up her finger to put her off.

“Uh-huh. Yup. Got it. I’ve gotta go. Practice. Cheering practice.”

“Ah, she remembers why we’re here. I’m so flattered.” Geraldine reached into her pocket for a Tylenol melty tab and popped it out of the tiny foil blister, tossing it into her mouth. That Veronica was the culprit every time. Every time.

“Ron,” Betty hissed. “C’mon!” She waved her over furiously. Miss Grundy gave her a stony look. Betty hopped to her feet and ran for her bestie and looped her arm through hers, snatching away the phone. 

“HEY!”

“Bye,” Betty told the one on the other end of the call, quickly thumbing the red “End” screen, yanking Veronica along.

“I wasn’t done!” Veronica yelped.

“Miss Grundy,” Betty sang under her breath. Veronica fumed, staring at her like she’d just passed gas.

“Can we start?” Veronica shrugged and turned to Betty, cavalierly snatching her phone back and stuffing it into her large Coach bag.

“I dunno,” she offered. “I’m ready.” Miss Grundy made a small noise of disgust.

“Good. Take two laps. No. Four. Take four.”

“Huh???” Veronica’s mouth dropped open just as she dropped her pompoms and bag beside Betty where she sat on the floor.

“Take a run. You’ve kept us waiting fifteen minutes. The other girls have been here, ready to cheer and practice, and you stroll in without a care in the world, not caring how many people you’re letting down. That’s poor school spirit, Veronica, and not how I run my cheering squad.” Betty’s cheeks burned with embarrassment for her friend. Veronica pouted.

“That’s not fair! I was just finishing a call, and it was important!” Betty inwardly sighed.

Darn right it was important. She saw “Archie” on the small touch screen before she ended her best friend’s call so abruptly, hearing the popular redhead’s familiar tenor calling out Ron’s name in confusion and protest. Betty didn’t feel too guilty about interrupting their mushy-gooshy chat, after a fashion, but she hated to see her get in trouble.

Envy still stung her with its tiny needles. Why couldn’t Archie call her?

Veronica snarled and kicked her pompoms across the floor, but she obeyed Grundy, starting her first lap around the basketball court. Miss Grundy sighed and passed out the cheer sheets.

“We respect each other on this squad. There’s no place on it for drama or to put yourself ahead of your teammates, is that understood?” She was greeted by low yeses and nods. Betty heard a low buzzing coming from Veronica’s bag. Gingerly she lifted up the strap to peer inside. She saw the glow of the touch screen, lit up with a text message.

“Where did u go?”

Of course it was Archie. Betty sighed and dropped the strap.

She knew Archie had to be stealing time away from his own practice if he was messing with Ron. He’d made the JV team as a sophomore, and as quarterback, no less. That made him an even bigger prize in Veronica’s eyes. Betty was merely thrilled for him that he even got to play. Cheering tryouts had been brutal; she mentally thanked her mother for paying for so many years of gymnastic classes for her. She’d screamed out loud when she saw her name on the list on the bulletin board two weeks ago, right under Veronica’s. Everything had been a constant blur since then of fundraising to pay for uniforms, car washes, baking cupcakes… Betty was exhausted, but it was so worth it.

Workouts found her staggering into her house under the weight of her loaded backpack, pompoms dragging, aching in muscles she didn’t know she had. Just as exhausting as practice, though, was spending that much time with her bestie. Veronica had Betty on speed dial, something that should have honored her, but it was a time-consuming commitment, and Veronica was needy. Betty was her wardrobe consultant, shopping companion, on-the-spot pedicurist, walking, breathing diary, and chick-flick companion. Greater than those burdens was the changing dynamic of their friendship, namely the newest element of rivalry.

They both liked the same boy. 

It complicated things. Most girls were thrilled to tell their best friend all the details of their crush: how they caught them staring; notes passed during math; brief moments of bumping into them accidentally, or even intentionally; leaning against lockers and chatting about nothing until the bell rang; exchanging numbers and continuing the same chatty drivel from the privacy of the bedroom, music turned on to mask it if the conversation drifted through the door. Betty walked that fine line every time Veronica said Archie’s name. Her cheeks burned every time, and she felt a hot rash of prickles run down her back, wanting so badly to shush her. Veronica’s dark blue eyes grew dreamy every time she mentioned him, and Betty recognized that look from her own mirror. It frustrated her.

The redhead did that just fine, too, if she had to be honest. Betty always felt a tongue-tied rush of awkwardness every time he turned to find her staring, and once he acknowledged her, her mouth ran on autopilot. Take that morning, for instance, at the water fountain.

She’d bent down for a long, thirsty drink before third period gym class. She felt someone sidle up to her, seeing a shadow from the corner of her eye.

“You gonna be long?”

“Huh? MMMPHH! GACK!” Betty sputtered as she ended up squirting herself in the nose. She jerked upright and flew backward, accidentally bumping into Archie, who was trying not to laugh.  
“She doesn’t always drink water, but when Betty Cooper does, it’s with her nose,” Archie teased, mimicking the Dos Equis commercial.

“Shut up,” she snickered, hating the cold sting in her nostrils, wiping her face on her sleeve. “Help yourself,” she offered, waving him to it.

“Sure? You’re all done?”

“Knock yourself out.” Archie shook his head and bent down for a drink. Betty silently eyed him, admiring the view from behind. Okay. It wasn’t a wasted moment, after all. He straightened up and licked his lips; her eyes tracked the gesture, glued to them.

“What’ve you got next?”

“Huh? Oh. Me? Uh… gym. I’ve got gym. Pretty much.”

“I hate having it early. Gotta go to class all sweaty for the rest of the day.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Betty wasn’t looking forward to that, now that he’d mentioned it, but what could she do? “What do you have next?”

“Spanish,” he shrugged. “It’s not my favorite.”

“Why not? It’s fun!” 

“Eh. I suck at it. I hate conjugating verbs.”

“It’s easy,” she insisted.

“Maybe for you, Big Brain. You sound like Dilton.” She mock-frowned at him and pretended to swat him; he danced back out of reach, grinning.

“Thanks a lot!”

“It’s not an insult. I didn’t say you looked like Dilton.” His blue eyes crinkled. Betty hugged her books to her chest, enjoying the attention. “You definitely don’t.”

“Um, yeah. Thanks, Arch. You’re a pal.”

“Always there for a friend.” Betty flinched, then sighed.

“I could help you with your Sp-“ Her offer was cut short when Veronica rounded the corner and practically shoulder-checked her out of the way.

“Archiekins!” Her fingers curled in his rugby shirt collar and pulled him in for a possessive, blatant kiss; Betty heard his exhale of surprise and low whimper of approval, and she backed up, flushing furiously. Wow. 

That sucked.

Veronica let him up for air. “I waited for you,” she pouted. “You said you’d meet me in the courtyard.”

“I was late. My car’s radiator overheated.”

“Why don’t your parents just get you a new one?” Veronica wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That thing’s a heap.”

“At least he has a heap,” Betty chimed in. Archie smirked for her benefit, but Veronica ignored her.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to haul him around,” Veronica shrugged. “Call me,” she told him pertly, giving him a brief peck. He pulled her back for two more, and Betty longed to gag. They held hands in that funny little couply way, with her index finger curled around his pinkie. That was Betty’s cue to leave.

“See ya.” She darted off, cutting off Veronica’s attempt to chat.

“Wait up, Betty!”

“I’m late!” The bell rang, to her relief, so she wasn’t a liar.

Yeah. That was her day. In a nutshell.

All things considered, Betty couldn’t feel too badly for her best friend having to run laps. She hadn’t been the loser that day.

*

Betty rode home on her skateboard, blonde ponytail whipping out from beneath her helmet. She enjoyed the last of the autumn sunshine, and the warm air felt good rushing over her bare legs. Betty loved the grind of the wheels against the blacktop. Even though she had her license, her parents didn’t have it in their budget to get her a car yet. There were worse things, she mused; Veronica “hauled her around,” too, from time to time in her green Jeep Cherokee. Veronica was upset that the Benz she’d begged for wasn’t waiting for her in the driveway draped in a big pink bow on her sixteenth birthday, but Hiram reasoned with her that he wouldn’t have her driving a fifty-thousand dollar car and parking it in a public school lot every day. It was too great a temptation, and his insurance premiums were high enough.

She kick-pushed her way down her block, feeling the burn in her calves. She was lost in her own thoughts until a car horn blared behind her, nearly startling her off the curb. 

“Shit!” she hissed. She pulled up short and skidded, stepping down to the pavement. She caught Reggie’s grin over the edge of his door. He had the top down and acid metal pumped from his speakers. “Seriously?” she demanded. “Don’t do that!”

“What? You didn’t hear me coming?” He nodded to her. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift.”

“I’m only six houses down,” she pointed out dryly.

“Seven. Don’t forget the Millers. Hop in, already.” Betty rolled her eyes and rounded the car, startling slightly as he revved the engine, teasing her. 

“Jerk.”

“You’re welcome.” Betty climbed in and reflexively ran her hand over the leather seat.

“Must be nice,” she murmured.

“Not bad, huh?” He nodded to her skateboard, smirking at the Hello Kitty stickers on the bottom of the deck. “Styling, there.”

“I thought so,” she sniffed. He guided them smoothly down the block and pulled up in front of her house.

“Milady.”

“You’re too kind, sir.” She got out and curtsied, gently closing his door.

“Could have given you a ride home if you’d asked in the first place, y’know. I live right next door. Had practice right outside where you were. I know it’s a shot in the dark, Bets, but that’s called ‘a convenient opportunity.’”

“Didn’t want to take any liberties, buddy.” Betty unfastened the strap on her helmet and dangled it from her fingertips. “Gotta save those convenient opportunities for the ones who might need them. Like Cricket. Or Maria. Or Dolores. Or Ginger…”

“Okay, okay, wait a minute…” He looked taken aback, and Reggie turned down his stereo. “Slow down a second there, Betty. You sound like the fun police. Are you telling me I run around?”

“Yes,” she said automatically. “You know that, right?”

“Well… yeah. I knew that. I just wanted to make sure that’s what I was hearing. Just surprised to hear that from you.”

“Why? It’s obvious. Why would it sound any different coming from me?”

“Because you don’t run around,” he accused. “You’re the poster girl for ‘safe.’” Betty wanted to hit him.

“I think we just figured out why I didn’t put you out of your way before by asking you for a ride home.” He smirked again, a wicked little curl of the corner of his mouth.

His mouth. His top lip was beautifully notched, thin and sharp; the lower one was slightly plump, almost begging to be tasted…

She inwardly slapped herself. Her mind didn’t just take her there. He nodded at her outfit.

“Isn’t that skirt a little short for riding a skateboard?”

“No, and be quiet, you’ll hurt its feelings,” she sniffed. “Beast,” she pronounced, and she turned up her front walk, fishing in her purse for her housekey. Reggie enjoyed the view and decided to ruin her perfect exit.

“Nice red panties, by the way, Cooper.”

“They’re not red, they’re pink! Wait… what?”

“Gotcha,” Reggie informed her, making a little shooting motion with his finger and blowing off imaginary smoke. “Later, Cooper.” He chortled as he drove off, enjoying her look of annoyance and confusion in his rearview mirror.

It was so much fun to get a rise out of her.

*

Archie fiddled with a few chords on his Gibson, plucking the strings with a shiny green pick. He reclined back on his bed with the guitar saddled across his lap, pillowed tucked behind him comfortably and a plate of Oreos sitting on his side table. A few crumbs floated in his half-finished milk. His muscles still hurt from football practice, and he had his guitar lesson in half an hour. He stared guiltily at his school books; he’d end up pulling an all-nighter for sure.

Still, it was shaping up to be a great year. Archie glanced at his photo of Veronica, staring back at him from a bronze frame. Her smile was casual but radiant; the shot was a black-and-white taken outdoors at the beach for her portfolio. Here’s looking at you. XOXOXOXO – Ron. The words were scribbled in her feminine script, using one of those weird little silver ink pens that his mom liked for scrapbooking. She’d given him one of herself fully dressed, something he’d had mixed feelings about asking her for, but he knew his mother would interrogate him if Veronica gave him a bikini shot.

He had a girlfriend, wealthy, high-maintenance, occasionally dramatic, and mind-numbingly beautiful. It was exhilarating, yet… exhausting. Archie’s free time was at a premium. His phone was full of texts from Jughead complaining that they never hung out anymore, but it couldn’t be helped. Not that Jug was much help, though, in helping him sort out his myriad feelings about Veronica.

Or worse, the burgeoning feelings he felt for Betty Cooper. 

It wasn’t intentional. They’d been friends forever, since kindergarten. Betty lived on the periphery of his earliest memories as the “good girl.” Just one of the guys. The tomboy and the teacher’s pet. Betty was transparent and easygoing. Where he hung on Veronica’s every word, Betty listened to him. It was just… nice. Betty was nice.

She smelled fresh, like Head and Shoulders and Lady Speed Stick. She wore a bare minimum of makeup, because she didn’t really need it. She was a great dancer, out in the center of the gym with her friends for every fast song and a patient good sport on the sidelines through the slow ones, casually sipping a soda and fiddling with her phone. She was a girl’s girl, never the leader of the pack, and never one to flake on her friends. Betty was popular without being a bitch. Archie sighed… one small strike against Veronica.

Archie scanned the other distractions in his room. His eyes landed on the slim yearbook from Riverdale Junior. He picked it up and automatically cracked it open to the eighth grade class, one third of the way through, skimming through the C’s.

Betty’s pert smile blinked up at him. Archie returned it with one of his own.

How could he not be torn?

*

The opportunity for a more solid decision, in Archie’s mind, at least, came sooner than he expected.

Betty hurried out of homeroom at final bell, all set to rush to practice. She retrieved her pompoms from her locker and checked her reflection briefly in the little magnetic mirror inside. “Ugh,” she muttered as she straightened her bangs. She was just digging into her purse for some lip gloss when her phone vibrated up at her. “Ronnie” blinked up at her from the touch screen. “Uh-oh,” she mused. “That can’t be good.” 

“I feel like hell,” Veronica announced miserably as she slid the bar to answer the call. “Tell Miss Grundy I went home. It can’t be helped. Must’ve been something I ate.”

“It was goulash day,” Betty pointed out. She’d wisely settled for her tuna sandwich she’d packed and a vitamin water.

“I never wanted to know what the inside of my stomach looks like. I still don’t wanna know.”

“Ooh. Wow. Sorry, V. I’ll tell Miss Grundy you’re gonna sit this one out.”

“I don’t wanna get cut.”

“If you’re sick, you’re sick. I’ve got your back.”

“You’re the best. Love you, BFF.”

“Love you, too. Go to bed. Did you get all of your assignments?”

“I don’t know if I’ll even make it tomorrow,” Veronica moaned.

“It’s okay. I’ll check in with you tonight, okay?”

“Gonna be sick…” Betty could almost hear her friend’s stomach gurgle, and she winced.

“Ooh. Yikes. Bye.”

“Bye!” The “End” screen flashed up at her, and Betty stowed her phone. They weren’t going to practice pyramids today, then. Betty made a couple of stops on her way to the gym. She caught up with Professor Flutesnoot and Miss Haggly to gather up Veronica’s assignments and jot them down. She didn’t have Ron’s locker combination, and Betty hoped that she already took all of her textbooks home.

Miss Grundy stared at her expectantly when she showed up in the gym. “Where’s your partner in crime?”

“Sick as a dog,” she explained. “She’s definitely under the weather.” She turned to Ethel, who silently mouthed “Cramps?” Betty shook her head and made finger-down-the-throat motions and held her stomach for emphasis. Ethel nodded in understanding and sympathy.

“Okay. We’ll cut her some slack. Ladies, go ahead and line up!” Grundy clapped her hands and blew her whistle. The next hour and a half was a blur of mat work and tumbling and shouting until Betty was hoarse.

She made use of the leaky shower and refreshed her deodorant, slicking her damp hair into a ponytail. She glanced in the mirror and pronounced herself just decent enough for a trip to Pop’s for a root beer. Ethel offered her a ride, but she declined.

“Nah. I’ve been riding my board these past few days. I like a little wind in my hair while it’s still nice enough out.”

“Sounds fun. Next time I’ll bring my blades,” Ethel decided easily. “Heading home?”

“No. Pop’s first, then Ron’s, then home.”

“Don’t catch what she has.” Ethel wrinkled her nose.

“I think it was just something she ate.”

“Bet it was the goulash. Beazley needs a new recipe book.”

“I might bring her some ginger ale.”

“Good idea. Ron’s lucky she has you.” Ethel almost wanted to say “too lucky,” since the friendship between Ron and Betty, both her friends since childhood, often seemed a little unbalanced. She liked Betty too much to voice that opinion.

“I’d want someone to do the same for me. Catch you later, E.”

“Later, Bets.”

Betty hopped on her board and cruised out of the lot, earbuds plugged in and her little iPod Nano pumping N.E.R.D. and Pharell into her consciousness. The roll of the ball bearings in her wheels created a counter rhythm to her tunes as she skated through patches of dappled shadows over the pavement. The angle of the sun began to change, making her wish the day didn’t have to end just yet. Her backpack felt heavy, reminding her she had two quizzes to study for and a three-page book report to write.

History repeated itself when she heard a car horn blare in her direction. “Shoot!” she yelped as she nearly tripped off her board. It was like the universe had it in for her this week…

“BETS!” Archie cupped his hand around his mouth and called out his passenger window as he pulled alongside her. “Where you headed?”

“Pops for a bit, then Ronnie’s. Are you going to see her?”

“She told me not to,” Archie admitted. “Said she felt lousy.” Betty tried not to look surprised. “Don’t want to go where I’m not wanted.”

“It’s only temporary,” Betty assured him quickly. “I’m only going to drop off her homework.”

“You’re going to Pop’s first?” Archie brightened with interest. “Hop in.”

“Oh. You’re sure?”

“Hurry up before that light changes,” Archie admonished. Betty stepped off her board and hustled into the car before the light turned green, closing the door with more force than she intended as he pulled away from the curb. 

“Sorry.” Archie accelerated slightly, and the car made a strange cranking sound when he changed gears. “That sounds ominous.”

“Ol’ Betsy needs a tune-up.”

“Old Betsy?” Betty laughed in delight. “Classic! Nice.”

“She is a classic,” Archie bragged, patting the dashboard. “Don’t hurt her feelings.”

“I wouldn’t dare. She’s yours, right?”

“Exactly. For better or worse.” The car was a little beater, but to Archie’s credit, it was an old sixty-nine Mustang. Its tomato red paint was slightly patchy, and the upholstery was threadbare, but it was still a comfortable ride. Slightly stuffy, though, Betty noticed. “You might want to roll down the window. The radiator overheats, so I have to drive with the heat turned on.”

“All the time?”

“Yup.”

“Wow.”

“At least it runs.” He nodded to her helmet and board. “Nice Hello Kitty.”

“I think so.”

“It’s… sporty,” he pronounced. She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not hating!”

“Sure you aren’t!”

They rode along a while before Betty noticed they were headed the wrong way. “I’m headed to Pop’s.”

“I know. Let’s hit Ron’s first, and you can give Ronnie her homework.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble if she already said not to come.”

“It’s not like I’m going inside,” Archie reasoned, shrugging. “You are. I’m just your ride.” Betty was relieved. She knew Veronica wouldn’t want Archie walking in on her when she was indisposed, sick and pasty.

“We’ll make it brief.”

Archie pulled into the large circular driveway, and Betty hopped out quickly, bringing along the little notepad with her homework written on it. Smithers let her in before she even rang the doorbell.

“Miss Lodge said no visitors, Miss Cooper. My apologies.” The older butler looked contrite. Betty smiled and handed him the notepad.

“This has her homework on it. I just wanted to make sure she has what she needs if she’s fine by tomorrow.”

“You’re a lovely friend, Miss Cooper. She’s fortunate to have you.”

“Tell her I said to get well soon,” Betty told him as she hurried away. “Bye, Smithers!”

“Good evening, Miss Cooper.” Smithers returned her wave, then shuddered in distaste as he eyed Archie’s horrid little jalopy. He ignored the redhead’s grin and brief wave.

“Heya, Smithers!” Smithers shook his head and closed the door on them, content to go about his duties, namely bringing his employer’s daughter some clear soda and saltines. Archie ground his gears again and off they went. Betty fought the futile battle with her hair as it kept whipping around her face and into her eyes. It was still fun, though, somehow, riding in a car with a boy.

She just wished he was hers.

They chatted easily on the way to the Choklit’ Shoppe, and Betty felt flushed being in the confined space, conscious of every time his hand reached for the gearshift, once even briefly grazing her knee. She shivered, and butterflies took wing in her belly. She knew it wasn’t intentional, but it felt… yummy. They parked out front, and Betty fed the meter. “You didn’t have to do that,” Archie chided her.

“It’s the least I can do.” They headed inside, and Archie held the door, and she shivered again when she felt his hand brush the small of her back.

“Counter?” she suggested.

“Booth.”

“There’s my favorite girl,” Pops called out. “What’re you doing hanging out with this bum, Elizabeth? He’s nothing but trouble!” Betty giggled.

“I’ll vouch for him, Pop.”

“The usual, kiddo?” He leaned over and swabbed the table with a damp dishcloth, shining it up as he handed them each a menu.

“Just a regular root beer this time.”

“What’s ‘the usual?’” Archie inquired.

“A float, but-“

“Make it two,” Archie told Pop. “With a basket of fries.”

“I wasn’t planning on much,” Betty insisted, especially since she wasn’t sure if Archie was planning to pay. That hadn’t been her intention, and it would be rude to impose.

“So, it’s a change in plan,” he shrugged. Pops nodded and took their order on his little scratch pad.

“Sounds like a plan. Out with it in a minute, kids.”

“Thanks,” Betty called after him brightly. She flushed under Archie’s gaze.

“How was practice?” he asked her.

“Oh. Hm. Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Brutal, actually.” He snickered.

“Me, too.”

“How are you liking it, though?”

“Pretty stoked. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. But every night when I come home, I’m just… dead.” She giggled at the way he tipped his head back and let his tongue loll out of his mouth like a corpse.

“Tell me about it. I’m just excited. I love cheering. I’m so stoked that Ronnie and I both made it on the squad this year.”

“Laverne and Shirley,” he teased.

“What?”

“That old show. My mom used to watch it. You guys are like those two,” he said thoughtfully. “You’re definitely Laverne.”

“Isn’t she the goofy one?”

“They’re both goofy.”

“Wow. Thanks.” She tossed a straw at him. He threw it back, and his eyes crinkled again. Hers flitted away for a moment, and when she looked back up at him, his smirk widened into a grin. He needed to stop doing that. Betty wondered if a person really could die from embarrassment, or blush themselves to death.

“You’ve got more freckles.”

“Ugh. Don’t tell me that. I get more every summer.”

“What’s wrong with that? They’re cute.”

“Pffft… I dunno. On you, maybe. I never liked mine much.”

“You should.”

“Duly noted, Archie.”

“So. Is that offer still on the table to help me with my Spanish?”

“I guess it never really left the table.”

“Can I borrow your notes?” Betty gave him a look of mock disgust.

“Might help if you actually took some in class, Arch.”

“I was tired from practice yesterday. Had to catch up on my beauty sleep.” She shook her head. “Not really. I know yours are better than mine, though.”

“I’ll make you a copy.”

“You rock. You rock out loud.” They were interrupted by two foaming root beer floats and a steaming basket of fries arriving on the table between them. Pops set down two long-handed spoons and a bottle of ketchup.

“You kids need anything else?”

“Nope. This looks great, Pops,” Betty beamed.

“Sure does, Pop.”

“You’re both welcome,” he nodded fondly. “Dig in.”

Their conversation slowed as they ate. Betty savored the float, lapping up a runnel of ice cream foam that ran down the side of the glass. Archie’s eyes tracked the movement of her lips and flick of her pink tongue. His loins heated up and his jeans felt tight. “What?” she pressed. “Do I have something on my face?”

My mouth, in a minute. “No. You’re fine.”  
“Sure?” His lips twitched.

“Wait… I missed it before. There. Look, I’ll get it…” He reached out, and before she could stop him, he reached down and grabbed one of her fries that she’s already dipped in ketchup and dashed it against the tip of her nose. “Wait, I missed it!”

“You goof!” she yelped, and she giggled, swatting his hand away. She cleaned away the smear with her napkin.

“There’s still some there, I’ll get it!”

“I don’t trust you!”

“You wouldn’t trust this face?” He gave her a brotherly smile, right before dipping his finger into the creamy foam of her soda and painting that across her nose, too.

It was all-out war. By the time Archie paid the tab, Betty’s skin was sticky with root beer, and Archie had salt in his hair. Pops shook his head at them as they left, and Betty was secretly relieved he hadn’t thrown them out.

*

Archie pulled into Betty’s driveway just as the sun began to set, and she regretted that time had flown by so fast.

“Thanks for the soda and the ride.” She reached for the door handle, struggling with it slightly.

“It sticks. Wait a minute, I’ll help you,” he said. Archie let himself out and rounded the front of the old Mustang, jerking open her door with slight effort, but he welcomed her out with a flourish. “Milady.”

“Kind sir,” she teased, earning her a crinkly smile again. He had dimples, she noticed, and his summer tan was slightly mottled, typical of someone who naturally freckled. She reached for her board, but he took that and her backpack for her. She dangled her helmet by the straps as he walked her to her door. Betty fished in her purse for her keys. “My mom’s not back yet, so I have to start dinner. Thanks again, Archie-“ She went to take the backpack from him, but instead of handing it to her, he set it down on the porch along with her skateboard. “I can… take… that…” Her voice drifted off, and her heart did a little flip as his hands slipped around her narrow waist and pulled her gently against him. “Archie,” she murmured, but that was all she managed before his mouth brushed over hers, teasing it with a kiss that made her forget her own name.

Betty’s heart pounded and her senses went into overload, filling with his scent and heat, craving the slowly tightening grip of his hands. She whimpered as his lips coaxed her to respond, and they instinctively caressed him back, pleading for more. Her fingers crept up to his nape, combing through the soft red locks.

Alarms went off in her head. This was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This was Archie.

This was Archie.

Her best friend’s boyfriend.

She came up for air, and her breath shuddered out with a string of babbled excuses. “Wow. Oh, wow. I’d… better go. You’d… you’d better go, too. Thanks again.” Betty reached for her things, unable to take her eyes off of him, and she felt her cheeks go up in flames. “Gotta study. Gotta make dinner.”

“Bets-“

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Yup! Tomorrow!” She stumbled backward in through the door. “G’night!”

“Bets!” She closed the door on him, locking out the sight of his confusion, and, she noticed, the slight glaze of misplaced desire. She locked the door and walked away from it, heart pounding as she headed for the kitchen. She paced and fretted.

What did she just do?

Caramel came out of hiding and meowed insistently. Betty yelped in surprise. “GAH! Shoot! Don’t… DO that!” Caramel leapt back, flicking her tail in surprise. “Sorry, girl.” She heard Archie’s car pull out of driveway, grindy sounding gears and all, and she sighed in relief. “Kitty, I’m in SO much trouble.” The ginger tabby merely purred for her dinner, winding herself around her legs.

*

Reggie held his breath and backed himself flat against the wall as he eavesdropped on his neighbor and football rival’s chat. “What the heck’s Carrot-Top doing here?” he muttered. He was bound to wake the whole neighborhood, driving Betty up to her house in that piece of rusted crap.

Reggie watched them from just over the hedge that separated their properties. Betty was grinning at Archie like she was twelve, something that both amused and annoyed Reggie. He saw him let Betty out of his car, being a perfect gentleman, but there was something cheesy about the gesture, somehow…

It was the right thing to do for a girl, but it was expected to do that for your girlfriend. They were standing pretty close… perhaps too close.

Betty was blushing. Reggie knew that blush, something she’d fine-tuned with him over the years when he managed to get her goat, but she was giving Carrot-Top that look. “Uh-oh. Oh, no. Bets, don’t!” he hissed. He saw the kiss coming before she did, and he longed to stalk across the driveway and drag Arch back to his piece of shit car by the scruff of the neck. “Shit,” he swore. “Bad idea, Cooper.”

The kiss lasted just a few seconds too long; Reggie felt Betty’s embarrassment sharply, saw the hint of regret mingled with desire painting her features as she hurried into the house. Yet he saw how hungrily she kissed him back, how hard it was for her to let him go.

Damn.

That wouldn’t do. That just wouldn’t do at all.


	5. Pot Calling the Kettle Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Reggie, not for the first time, get on each other’s nerves and call each other out on their behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: It’s been a while since I updated this. Yes, I suck. I’m getting away from posting fic on LJ and DA, now, because the uploads are often a pain with character/word limits that make it a pain in the keister when I post.

 

Reggie and Clarissa were leaning in too closely to each other for propriety, not that Betty was noticing, or anything. She tried not to look at them, but her ears pricked up as she listened to their flirty banter. She tried to look completely absorbed in cleaning out her locker.

“So, you’re coming to my place later, right?”

“Reg… I don’t know… I’ve got a lot to do after school.”

“So, come and do it with me.” Betty heard his smug grin without having to look at it, and she silently rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you know what I mean… I’ve got plenty of space for us to spread out. We can cram for that lit test.”

“I hate Moby Dick,” Clarissa complained. “It’s so boring.”

“It won’t be if you study it with _me,_ Reggie tempted. “I’ll make it interesting.”

“Reg, quit it!” But there was laughter in her voice, and Betty dared to peek out of the corner of her eye. Clarissa was leaning back against her locker, and Reggie was practically hemming her in, focused on her body language and her ripe, pink pout. He lightly caressed the underside of her chin with his fingertip, urging her to keep her eyes on his face when she tried to duck her head. Clarissa was staring up at Reggie like he painted the stars across the sky. Betty knew he was pulling out his usual bag of tricks, and as usual, it was working beautifully.

How often had she watched him from over the hedge? How many other conversations had she eavesdropped, late at night, when he brought girls over or when they just lingered in his car? Even worse, and it tied Betty’s stomach in knots when she thought about it, on a handful of occasions when she caught Reggie LEAVING his house on Sunday mornings to take his dates HOME on weekends when his parents were out of town, how giggly, blissed out and guilty did those girls look as he helped them into his car, hair still mussed?

She saw Clarissa turn her head Betty’s way and she quickly ducked, but not before she caught her. Thankfully she was nice. “Hi, Betty!” Betty waved back, and she hated the dark red flush that she could feel breaking out over her skin.

“Hey, Clarissa!” she offered, waving back. She closed her locker and darted off, and Reggie stared after her with a tiny frown. But his face smoothed itself into agreeable lines when Clarissa faced him again.

“So, what time?”

“Huh?”

“If I meet you after practice,” she teased, poking him.

“Uh…hm.” He snapped his fingers. “Just meet me at the parking lot at four. I can drive you.” Clarissa had a Spanish club meeting, so she would be staying after school, anyway.

“I brought my own car today.” 

“That’s fine. Give me your phone real quick.” She handed it over eagerly, and he thumbed his way into her contacts, feeling slightly goofy holding her phone in its horrendously girly pink case with My Little Ponies on it. “I’ll plug my address in here.” 

“Awesome.” She took it back and tucked it into her huge, rhinestone-studded bag. He toyed with one of her long, narrow braids dangling over her shoulder.

“See ya.”

“Later, Mantle.” Her lips twisted into a little smirk and she gave him flirty eyes as she left. He watched her walk for a moment, enjoying the swing of her hips, but then his mind drifted back to Betty.

She’d been watching him. Those blue eyes of hers never lied. What was up with that? He mentally scratched his head as he made his way to social studies.

*

“Come to the mall with me. I want to pick up that dress that I have on hold.”

“I’m broke. Otherwise I’d go.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy you a latte.” Of course Veronica would bring up her weakness.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Awww, I don’t wanna go to the mall alone,” Veronica whined. “C’mon, Bets, pretty please?”

“Didn’t your dad cut you off?” 

“Pfft… no. He just gave me a warning. That’s why I put the dress on hold.”

“Ahhhh.” Betty mentally rolled her eyes. “Self-restraint. I see what you’re doing there.”

“Zip it, or no latte for you.” Veronica brandished her slapping hand, and Betty giggled. “C’mon. Come have fun with your bestie. You know you want to.” Veronica started doing a goofy little dance, then grabbed Betty and started to twirl her around. “You knooowww you waaaant toooooo…” she chanted. Betty gave her a long-suffering look.

“I wish I could quit you,” she told her dryly. Veronica broke away and fist-pumped.

“Yesssssss! Yay! Goodie! Meet me at my car.”

“Yes, yes,” Betty promised, waving her off. “Ooh. Wait. Can we make a stop before we go? I have a library book I have to return.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s fine.” Then Veronica pulled a face as they headed toward their last period class. “Why don’t you just stick with the school’s library?”

“Better reference section.” And sometimes Betty just needed to get away from anything having to do with school for a couple of hours, with her busy athletic schedule. Veronica already hadn’t forgiven her for going out for basketball instead of staying on the winter cheerleading squad, but the schedules were conflicting, and Betty really wanted to play.

It didn’t hurt, really, that the girls practiced in the opposite court from the boys, partitioned off by a dividing wall, but she could still peek through the opening once in a while. Reggie and Archie were both playing that season and both made varsity. Once in a while, their game schedules would coincide, and both teams would play in the same school’s tournament.

So, it was important to steal some time with her bestie once in a while so Veronica wouldn’t feel put out. By the time Betty finished practice, showered, went home, helped make dinner and began studying her notes, she was usually wiped. Weekends were for dates, the way Veronica’s schedule worked, so more often than not, she went with Archie to the movies instead, and Betty ended up being the odd man out. Archie and Veronica were joined at the lip, more often than not, and despite her own best efforts to move on from what she now called “The Incident,” Betty still burned with jealousy.

She should be happy for her friend for having the boyfriend she always wanted. Sure. But… BUT.

_But. Well._

It never quite worked out that way, did it? They both liked Archie. That much had been pretty clear from the beginning. Veronica got his attention. Archie asked Veronica out. End of story. Betty slunk into the background and licked her wounds. Archie never looked at Betty the way he did Ron.

… at least, not until The Incident. Not until he turned her world on its ear, and Betty didn’t know what changed. One moment they were goofing around, and the next his lips were teasing hers, coaxing tiny sounds out of her throat, making every inch of her body tingle. Waves of guilt washed over her, but that look in his eyes, those robin’s egg blue eyes, they were cloudy with desire and need, coaxing an admission from her that she felt what was between them.

Now, she noticed him, and he was definitely noticing _her._ How long had he snuck glances at her, then ducked his head sheepishly as soon as their eyes met? When did brief, inadvertent contact between them get so awkward? She wasn’t watching where she was going on her way through the doorway past study hall, checking her tweets on her phone, when she collided with him as he approached, since he was yelling over his shoulder to Moose and was paying just as little attention. They smacked into each other, and both of them stammered out apologies, and she nearly came out of her skin at the feel of his hand closing around her upper arm.

“Geez… Bets, I wasn’t looking. I’m sorry. Um… sorry.”

“Beg your pardon,” she added clumsily. “I wasn’t looking. TOTALLY wasn’t looking.” His hand lingered on her arm, and the contact was making her fizzy. Every alarm in her brain sounded at once: _He’s touching me, he’s TOUCHING me, HE’S TOUCHING ME…_ She felt bereft as he withdrew his hand, and they were buffeted out of the way as their classmates surged through the doorway around them, still awkwardly close. “Um, bye.”

“Yeah.” He waved, then almost crashed into Jug going in the opposite direction, but he still glanced over his shoulder at Betty. It hit her that she was just standing there, looking back when she should have been walking to class.

“Why are you all red?” Ethel demanded when she reached her class.

“Don’t ask.”

“But… why?”

“It’s nothing. It’s totally nothing.” _But,_ her traitorous brain demanded to know, _what if it was?_

*

 

Practice was brutal. 

Two miles of suicide laps. Shooting drills. Blocking. Rebounding. Lay-ups. Free throws. Jumping jacks. Grapevines. Passing drills. The gym was chilly when practice began, but after two hours, which also included a brief scrimmage, Betty was drenched in her own sweat, ponytail plastered to her neck, and every inch of her body ached. But Betty was exhilarated; they had an awesome team lineup for the season, and she couldn’t wait for their next tournament on Saturday.

Ethel gave her a high five. “Nice job today.”

“It was good,” Betty agreed. “I think we’re ready.”

“Sounds like they tore it up on that side, too,” Ethel murmured, motioning to the dividing wall. They heard Coach Kleats’ whistle blow and the stamping of feet as the boys huddled. She saw a spare ball bounce and roll into view from where someone tossed it, and Archie darted into her line of vision through the opening in the partition. He scooped up the ball, stopping just short of accidentally running into the bleachers, and he chanced a quick look through the wall. He grinned self-consciously and nodded at Betty, then disappeared.

“He looked whipped,” Ethel remarked.

“Yeah,” Betty murmured. “Sure did.”

“Why are you grinning like that?”

“Like what?” She met Ethel’s glance. “Like what?” she repeated.

“Like … that. Whatever that is.” Ethel gave the ball under her arm a few experimental dribbles, then cradled it against herself again. “Why were you staring at him like that?”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“That looked a lot like staring.”

“Nope.” Betty shrugged and loped toward the bleachers, where Miss Grundy was giving them a run-down on what needed work before their tournament.

“I want more of that teamwork, girls. Be mindful of where your teammates are on the court and pay attention. I want to see you watching and listening for ‘I’m open!’” Miss Grundy gestured with arm waving motions to demonstrate. “No ball hogging. Some of you are gifted shooters, some of you have a stronger passing game, but there’s no excuse to hog the ball for every shot.”

“Don’t be a Mantle,” Nancy muttered aloud. The girls tittered and elbowed each other, and Miss Grundy sighed.

“That’s enough. That’s not _inaccurate,_ granted, but don’t be unsportsmanlike and tear down your peers. Appreciate all of your fellow Bulldogs. We all have our flaws.” Miss Grundy nodded to Ethel. “Nice work today on those tip-ins and lay-ups, kiddo. Use that height to your advantage, but watch that high dribbling.”

“Yes, ma’am.” But Ethel glowed under the praise. Ethel had spent most of freshman year believing she had no real athletic ability until Miss Grundy coaxed her into trying field hockey. She ended up being a natural at it, and it gave her the confidence to go out for basketball, giving in to the usual nagging she got about “You’re so tall, why don’t you play basketball?” It ended up working out. She had hoped it would help her to get Jughead’s attention, but so far, no go. Oh, well.

The skinny junior was on the boy’s team, too, the only team he would bother with every year, and he was pretty good, good enough to play first string, but he wasn’t “a Mantle,” lacking the ego that seemed to go along with lettering in a sport. When practices were over, Jughead beelined over to the Chok’lit Shoppe or to Archie’s house, competing with Veronica for time with his best friend. Betty knew how he felt…

Ethel hadn’t given up hope yet. That last, stubborn little glimmer still burned within her breast, and her feet still wore a groove in the floor past his locker every day, while she savored every brief glimpse of him. One day, the right words would tumble out of her mouth, or she would wear the right perfume, or she would bake him just the right cookie, and he would notice her, and maybe, just maybe, he would _appreciate_ her. Ethel was grasping for crumbs.

He was so cute. He was just so… Jughead. It was so hard.

The girls lingered in the gym, collecting the balls in the large net sack and gathering up the orange drill cones. “Can I come by and get that sweater tonight?” Nancy asked. “Chuck’s taking me to a movie at seven.”

“Ooh. Shoot. I’m meeting Ron today to go to the mall. I’ll try to make it short. Unless you want to come with us?”

“Nah. I’ve got a project due on Greek history on Friday. I need to work on it today before Chuck comes over.” Betty promised to lend Nancy her green sweater for her date; it was their two-year anniversary, and Chuck was going all out, planning dinner and seeing the Hunger Games afterward.

“Okay. We’ll figure something out. I’ll see if Ron and I can swing by your house with it, then. I’ll text you to let you know where we are.” The girls headed to the locker room, but they paused at the sound of the boys horsing around on the other side.

“Wish they’d put some windows in that thing,” Nancy murmured, nodding to the partition.

“No kidding,” Ethel agreed. “Can’t let us have any _fun_ , or anything.” They went to the showers, and Betty rushed through her attempt at hygiene, hopping still half-damp into her clothes, jerking her hair into a hasty ponytail and cramming deodorant against her pits. She was slinging her backpack over her shoulder and putting on lip gloss without a mirror as she hurried out.

“Text me!” Nancy called after her.

“I will!” 

“Bye, Betty!” Midge called after her. She waved to all of them and rushed to the cafeteria, where the cheerleaders were practicing. She caught Veronica’s eye and ignored the nasty look Cheryl gave her as she looked up from her phone.

“So glad I’m not playing ball this year, if it means looking like shit,” she muttered. 

“So what’s your excuse for looking like shit, then?” Veronica quipped, looking innocent and looping her arm through Betty’s.

“And who said you weren’t playing ball?” Betty added. “That’s not what we’ve heard.” She gave Cheryl a smug look that was out of character for her.

“Bitch,” Cheryl huffed. She flipped them the bird, then turned away quickly when Miss Haggly and Miss Phlips told them to help collect the cheer sheets and boom box.

“Nice one,” Veronica snickered. They fist-bumped and hurried out, and Veronica tightened her grip on Betty. “This is so awesome,” she squealed. “I get to hang out with my bestie and spend money!”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I’m spending money on you, too. It’s latte time.”

“Library book first. I need to run home for it, and I have to also pick up a sweater for Nanners.”

“She could have come with us,” Veronica mentioned.

“I know. She’s working on her project, though.” Veronica made a disappointed sound.

“Booooo…” Veronica drew them up short as her phone chirped at her. “Ooh. Call. Hold it.” Betty rolled her eyes. Of course, it had to be Archie. Veronica answered the call with a breathless “What’s up, babe?” Betty tagged alongside her, listening to one side of the conversation and fighting the urge to gag. “I’m with Betty. Yeah, Betty. We’re going to pick up my dress. Yes, the hot one. Aw, you’re so cute… I know you’ll like it on me.” Veronica’s mouth dropped open in mock-shock, and she giggled. “Don’t!” she scolded lightly. “You’re so bad. Yes, you’re totally bad. Yeah. Miss you. No. I miss _you_ more. Okay.” She paused again. “Betty and I are getting a latte. We won’t be gone that long. Okay.” She made a kissy noise. “Mmm-whah! Bye, Archiekins.” Betty made finger-throat motions and a sour face. Veronica elbowed her. 

“That, was just… sickening. Seriously. Going into sugar shock, here.”

“But I loooooooooove him,” Veronica whined, clasping her hands over her heart. “You wouldn’t understaaaaaaaannnnd!”

Sure, Betty wouldn’t. Why wouldn’t she?

“Let’s just _go_ ,” Betty insisted on a ragged sigh.

*

 

Betty finished her two errands, and they girls rolled up to the galleria parking lot in Ron’s Jeep, where Veronica managed to wrangle her way past a middle-aged man in a blue Navigator to beat him to the closest parking spot that he’d been waiting for. 

“No one beats a Lodge into the mall,” Veronica sniffed, ignoring his dirty look and the way he slapped his steering wheel behind closed windows, mouthing _What the F***?_ at them as they passed by. Veronica grabbed Betty’s arm and pulled her along. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” Betty chided.

“He’ll get over it.” Betty’s misgivings faded once the scent of the mall food court hit them fully, and her mouth watered.

“Cinnabon,” she sighed, breathing it in.

“Cinnamon twisties,” Veronica corrected her. “Let’s go!” They giggled and practically ran to the little stand and ordered. 

 

They lingered over their drinks and snacks while Veronica prattled on about Archie this, and Archie that, and the upcoming winter semi-formal. “What are you going to wear?” 

“I don’t know. I’ll wait and see what goes on sale,” Betty considered. “I won’t have enough time to make anything.”

“So, make the time. That last one was nice.”

“I don’t feel like wearing it again.” But to Ron’s credit, it was true. Her midnight blue, spaghetti-strapped sheath that her mother helped her make was a sweet, simple get-up, but she wanted something different. Something eye-catching. Not over the top, but just memorable.

“Anyone ask you yet?”

“Nope.” Dilton had asked her if she was planning to go, but he hadn’t actually asked her if she was interested in going with _him_. Jughead joked with her that they could be each other’s last resort, but she wouldn’t do that to Ethel. She knew him too well; he liked to go stag.

“Get a date. We can double.”

“Easier said than done. Get me one,” Betty challenged. Veronica rolled her eyes and smirked.

“Don’t dare me. I’ll do it. I’ll find you someone.” Veronica began scrolling through her phone.

“Oh, geez… no. NO,” Betty emphasized, making a grab for it. “We’re not doing this.”

“I want you to have a date. I’m gonna have a date, so you should, too.” Betty didn’t point out that Veronica already _had_ the date that Betty would have found ideal.

“Don’t go out of your way.”

“No. Seriously. Look… how about George? I just ran into him a few weeks ago. He still looks pretty good.” 

“Wasn’t that the guy you went on a blind date with that didn’t work out? Didn’t he have a weird thing about Al Pacino movies?”

“Hmm… okay. Skip George. How about Louie?”

“The one who has the psycho sister? Nope. Next.”

“He was cute, though!” Veronica insisted.

“What else have you got?” Betty couldn’t believe she was even entertaining the thought of letting Veronica fix her up.

“Stan? He might be free that night.”

“Who is he?”

“I met him at one of Daddy’s conferences. His dad works with him. That was after Archie and I got together, though. But he seemed nice enough.”

“Picture?”

“Uh-huh.” Veronica scrolled through the photos in her gallery and triumphantly shoved the phone at her. “Whaddya think?” Betty looked down at the tiny screen. Her eyes widened appreciatively.

“Wow. Oh, wow.”

*

 

 _That was there it all began to unravel,_ Betty realized that night while she was on her second cup of punch. Her high heels were pinching her feet and Stan’s voice, which she initially found sexy at the beginning of the evening, was beginning to grate on her nerves.

She never should have agreed to let Ron fix her up. Everything started out well enough. Stan showed up on time, and her breath caught at how handsome he looked in his dark gray suit. Stan was close to six feet tall, medium build, and had dreamy gray eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. He knew his way around a bottle of hair gel and had well-cut dark waves. He came inside and automatically shook hands with Betty’s dad.

“Eleven,” Hal told them sternly.

“That’s fine, Mr. Cooper,” Stan agreed. His hand was warm at Betty’s lower back as he helped her into her coat and showed her to the car.

As the night wore on, she realized that while Stan was certainly pretty, there just wasn’t much going on upstairs.

Stan went to Pembroke and was friends with the Blossoms, which explained a lot. So much of what came out of his mouth was “blah-blah-CARS-blah-blah-MY PARENTS-blah-blah-OUR TRIP TO ARUBA-blah-blah-MY LAST GIRLFRIEND-blah-blah-blah-ME, ME, ME.” Betty realized her attempts at conversation were futile, and she began to just nod and smile.

“So, you look so cute tonight,” Stan finally told her. Betty sighed in relief.

“Thanks!”

“My ex has a dress like that. Did you get it at BCBG?”

“Oh. Uh-uh.”

“Well, it’s nice. It’s working well for you.” He rocked back on his heels and stared out at the dance floor.

“You wanna dance?” Betty suggested helpfully.

“Oh, not yet. Not crazy about this song.”

“Got it. No rush.” She nodded to his cup. “Want more punch?” He grinned and handed it to her, and she slunk off dutifully, glad for the momentary escape.

“How’s it going over there with your boy?” Chuck inquired, stopping her.

“It’s so _not,_ ” she growled. “Oh, my friggin’ goodness. Shoot me now.”

“Oooh.” Chuck winced. “This is a friend of Ron’s?”

“I thought I was a friend of Ron’s, up until now,” Betty quipped. “Rethinking that now.”

“She meant well,” Nancy chimed in. “Remind me to bring your sweater by tomorrow, girl.”

“I’ll be home most of the day, whenever you want to stop by.” Nancy gave her arm a squeeze before Betty ladled more punch.

“He didn’t even get the drinks?” Chuck wrinkled his nose. “That’s his job.”

“No worries. I needed the walk. Haven’t danced once.”

She hobbled off in the uncomfortable shoes and watched the dance floor resentfully. It was crowded and everyone looked like they were having a great time except her. And perhaps Ethel, who was mooning over Jughead and working up the nerve to approach him. She caught Betty’s eye and waved her over. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m not digging this.”

“Preaching to the choir, sweetie.” She held up one of her cups. “Punch?”

“Maybe later.” Then Ethel made a face. “Where’s your date?”

“Over there. Mr. Tall, Dark and Such a Bad Idea.” Ethel giggled behind her hand.

“Wow. I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too. So, think Juggie will come around?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can still chat him up.”

“I don’t want to feel like I’m trying too hard.”

“Not trying at all isn’t getting you anywhere.” 

“I know, I know…” Ethel sounded defeated.

“You look nice.” She did. Ethel went the low-key route with a scoop-necked, sleeveless black velvet dress with a green satin sash, black mule-heeled pumps and a dainty pearl choker around her slender throat. She wore her short dark hair pinned up and did her makeup with a light hand. 

“I’d rather be home in my jammies. The Hello Kitty ones, on my couch. With cocoa and Vampire Diaries.”

“Ooh. That sounds good.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Quit stalling, though.”

“Grrrrrr…”

“Okay. Take another minute. Chill. Mingle,” Betty urged. “But don’t just wait all night.”

“I know, I know.” Ethel gave her a one-armed hug. “Is he just dull, or what?”

“He’s just… a no. A no, all around.”

“Maybe if you get to dance with him, that will help.”

“Maybe. Later, kiddo.”

“Good luck,” Ethel called to her retreating back. Funny how it worked out that Ethel, dateless, was telling Betty that. No; it was sad.

“There you are,” Stan piped up. “I was getting lonely.”

 _You missed the sound of your own voice,_ Betty mused. “Want that dance any time soon?”

“Let me finish this,” Stan offered, and Betty gulped down her drink in one swig, but was dismayed that he meant a sip at a time while he continued to look around the room, one hand in his pocket. Defeated. SO defeated…

“Betty!” She heard Veronica’s squeal from across the room, and she was practically knocked over as her bestie came galloping over.

“OOF!”

“You look so cute! Omigod! Stan, you made it!” Veronica was jumping up and down, hugging her, and Betty could only laugh. Archie hung back slightly, chuckling. He nodded at Stan, who gave him a noncommittal smile, then reluctantly gave him a hand to shake.

“Stan Green.”

“Archie. Andrews.” 

“Let’s dance,” Veronica ordered. To Betty’s annoyance, Stan finished his drink, finally, and followed suit as Veronica dragged them all out there. Of course, he would listen to Ron…

He was a decent dancer, if less than enthusiastic, but at least Betty finally had something to do. Veronica moved with Archie like they were born for it; three years of going steady would certainly explain it. She tried not to focus on them or look too envious. But once in a while, her eyes drifted over to watch them, taking in Veronica’s radiant smile, or even worse, Archie’s.

But after a while, she just let it go, getting into the music, feeling grateful that she wasn’t a wallflower up in the bleachers. She looked good, she felt relatively good, and she had a date, and she let that mindset guide her over the next hour.

*

That was how Reggie found her, once he finally paused for a drink with his own date. Clarissa was sitting at one of the small round tables set up off to the side, briefly taking off her shoe and rotating her ankle. He brought her a cup of punch and sat beside her, lightly kissing her brown shoulder. She smiled and moved her sweep of cornrows off her neck to give him better access.

“You’re gonna wear me out,” she murmured fondly.

“Running out of steam already?”

“Let me take a breather.”

“Did I mention you look hot?”

“You can mention it again, if you want.” Reggie smirked. Clarissa was fun. She was pretty open about what she wanted once they really began to talk past the “flirting” stage, and he was glad they’d exchanged numbers so far. “Do you recognize that guy over there?”

“Which one?”

“The one dancing with Betty.” He followed her pointing hand and peered into the crowd.

Betty.

Wow.

The guy dancing next to her looked like a bit of a tool. Okay. And Clarissa was right, he didn’t look like he went to their school. He kept doing this collar-flexing thing that was kinda goofy, but it made Betty laugh. But, Betty.

Just… _Betty_.

She made all coherent thought and function stop with the way she moved, dressed in purple so deep it was almost black, a long, backless halter dress with a flowing skirt. Her hair was in a Grecian-curled upsweep, thanks to a favorite cousin of hers who was a hairdresser. 

“I don’t think he goes here,” Clarissa mentioned, pulling him abruptly back.

“Huh?”

“Reg? You in there?” She gently knocked against his forehead, chuckling at him. “You zoned out there for a second.”

“Nah. I’m good.” She stepped back into her shoe and stood, reaching for his hand. “You good?”

“Uh-huh.” She grinned and pulled him out to the floor after her, but Reggie’s face heated up the closer they got to Betty.

He tried to focus on his pretty, bubbly date, but out of the corner of his eye, he also noticed Veronica and Archie. Ron looked great, too, easily outdoing every girl there in her skimpy little red number and blown-out curls, but what caught his attention – briefly – was Archie.

He was giving Betty the eye. There was a longing there. Almost… a hunger.

“Asshole,” Reggie hissed under his breath.

“What?” Clarissa said, confused.

“Nothing… I’m good. It’s nothing.”

“Okaaaayyyy…”

They kept dancing, song after song, and when a slow number came up, he held Clarissa close, absorbing her heat and breathing the scent of her perfume. But once in a while, over her shoulder, he watched Betty.

She and her date moved slower than the song required, and her body seemed stiff, even though they moved well together. Reggie read the awkwardness in her expression and noticed that his hand was on her hip, rather than her waist. Briefly, Reggie watched that hand slide down too low to be polite, and he gave Betty’s ass a fleeting squeeze, making her jerk against him and stare up at him in annoyance. _Quit it,_ Reggie saw her mouth to him beneath the music. Reggie’s own grip tightened on Clarissa and his blood heated up, just shy of a full boil.

Stan shrugged and smirked, and his hand moved back up where it belonged, against her waist. 

“What’s up?” Clarissa asked him again. “Why the frown?”

“I just… nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

Before he could form a reasonable answer, he heard commotion off to his right, and this time, he saw a flash of red hair heading toward Betty’s carefully pinned blonde curls.

“That’s enough!” he heard Archie snap. This time, Reggie saw red, when he noticed that guy’s hand on Betty’s butt again, gripping it more possessively.

“Nope,” Reggie muttered. “Sorry,” he apologized to Clarissa before he let go of her and plowed through the crowd, all of whom were watching the spectacle now.

“Reggie? What the hell?” Clarissa yelped, throwing up her hands in his wake.

“Watch the hands,” Reggie warned him.

“I’ve got this,” Archie growled at him.

“No, you haven’t,” Stan told them both, staring at them like they were high. “Get out of here with that shit. I’m dancing with my date!”

“You’re making her uncomfortable,” Reggie argued. “Keep your hands to yourself!” Betty looked horrified. 

“Guys… don’t worry about it.” She stood between them and Stan, trying to shove him behind her. “Don’t do this. Please don’t embarrass me like this.”

“You didn’t like how he was touching you,” Archie pointed out, and his jaw was set, eyes blazing, and it quickened her pulse.

“Sure didn’t look like it,” Reggie agreed, but it pissed him off to realize that Archie had been ignoring his own date as much as _he_ had _his_. Betty’s eyes flitted to his face, and she shook her head.

“Please, don’t.”

“Mind your own fucking business,” Stan snapped, and that got everyone’s attention that hadn’t already turned to stare.

“She’s my friend, so she’s my business if you’re putting the moves on her and she doesn’t like it,” Archie informed him. Veronica looked horrified and picked that moment to jump in.

“Stan… look. Cool it.”

“Nice townie friends, Ronnie. Not impressed.” She shrugged.

“So? This is why _we_ didn’t go out. I was hoping you two would hit it off, but never mind. Go run home to Mommy and Daddy.” Stan looked aghast.

“Seriously? You’re just gonna… I came all the way out here to date your friend as a favor…?”

“Favor?” Betty cried. “As a FAVOR???”

“No hard feelings,” Stan told her nastily, giving her a saccharine, fake smile and patting her cheek. “My ex wore it better.”

“I said, watch your hands!” Reggie reminded him, reaching for Betty and pulling her behind him, much like she had her horrible date only moments before. He glanced at her and murmured, “I’m sorry, Bets,” right before swinging on him.

At the end of the night, Reggie was suspended, Archie was suspended, every one of their friends who attempted to break up or otherwise help either of them out in the fight was suspended, and Betty and Veronica went home, mortified and pissed. Veronica deleted Stan from her contacts and gallery before Jeeves even made it there in the limo to pick them up.

*

 

Naturally, Betty didn’t see Reggie back at school until Wednesday. He looked chastened, and he was sporting a bandage wrapped around his hand. “Uh… hi.” He paused at her locker and watched her sheepishly. “I guess I kinda owe you an apology.”

“What? You? To me? Whatever for?” She blew out an exasperated breath before facing him. “That was so uncalled for.”

“He was a tool. He was getting fresh.”

“I know that. I could handle it.”

“By letting him do it again?”

“I wasn’t going to make a scene.”

“Where did you find that guy?”

“Ron found him.” He rolled his eyes.

“That explains a lot.”

“It’s not like I liked him or anything. He was just going to be my date for the formal.”

“You could have done better. So much better.”

“It was short notice. And why do you get to critique my date? You ignored yours. What happened to Clarissa?”

“Nothing happened to Clarissa.”

“Was she okay with what happened on Friday?”

“No,” he shrugged. At least he was being honest. “She really wasn’t.”

“You guys over?”

“Um. Yeah.” He combed his fingers through the hair at his nape. “Look, Bets… I’m sorry. Friday sucked. I just couldn’t watch you get mauled by that guy.”

“Guess Archie couldn’t, either. Do you know how embarrassing that was?” She slammed her locker and began to walk away, but Reggie caught her arm, stopping her briefly.

“Are you at least gonna be mad at him, too?”

“What?”

“Did it embarrass you when he stepped in? Ron didn’t look okay with it, either, when he got involved.” Betty narrowed her eyes.

“Seriously?”

“Unless you liked it when he stepped up?”

Betty felt her cheeks get hot and ugly little prickles wash over her. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business, Reggie.” Her words were like a slap, and he released her, belatedly, when he realized that he was still touching her. “You had your own date. You didn’t need to keep tabs on mine. You weren’t doing me any favors.” Jughead looked up from his locker as those two walked by arguing, and Reggie could swear he could see the skinny drummer wince.

“If that had been a different date, not at a dance with a bunch of people around, that could have gone badly,” he told her. “Next time I won’t do you the favor of getting rid of a guy that a) was clearly getting fresh with you, that b) was making you uncomfortable, and c) was a horrible dancer that kept doing those stupid nineties “Vogue” moves that no one does anymore. Unless they’re a _tool._ ” Ethel lingered in the periphery, listening.

“Boy has a point,” she murmured.

“I know, right?” Jug agreed, nodding at her. Ethel blushed, but she shot him a brief smile before she moved on to her class.

Betty watched him warily, working up the nerve to say something else.

“You know I’m right.”

“You just think you’re right.” She stormed off. “Next time, don’t leave your date behind. That was bad form, Reggie!” she tossed over her shoulder. Reggie threw his hands up in the air, making an exasperated sound.

*

He headed straight home, since Mr. Weatherbee had suspended him from basketball practice and any games for the whole week, even though he’d only missed two days of school. Reggie finished his chores early and decided to practice his bass for a while. He headed into the basement and plugged his guitar into the amp that his dad got him for his last birthday. He did a few warm-up chords and enjoyed the thrum of it in his hands. He owned two guitars, and even though he loved his Fender Strat, the bass was his baby. He lost himself in the music, playing for about an hour, until his knuckles began to itch beneath the bandage. Veronica’s friend Stan had a hard head…

Reggie emerged from the basement to find his mother at the stove, emptying a bag of frozen veggies into a saucepan. “You’re back early.”

“No practice today.” He didn’t remind her of why. Vicky sighed and looked at his hand.

“Change the bandage. I hope you’re not letting it get wet.”

“It’s fine, Ma.”

“I wish you’d be more careful, sweetie. Suspensions don’t look good on your record, or on your transcripts. And if you were an adult doing something like that, you could’ve been arrested.”

“Okay,” he grumbled.

“It’s not okay,” she chided. “Reggie, why did you get into that fight?”

“This guy was harassing Betty.”

“Betty Cooper?”

“Yeah. He had his hands where they didn’t need to be.”

“None of the chaperones did anything about it?”

“No.” Short of “breaking it up” when anyone was caught making out in the bleachers, they almost never did, Reggie wanted to tell her, but he saved that for himself. “Things just got out of hand.”

“I’m not angry that you stood up for her, then, just that you got into a fight, and that you got hurt.” She kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. “You’re my baby.”

“Ma…”

“You still are. Go set the table.”

*

 

After dinner, Reggie went outside to get the mail from the box. Just as he closed the box back up and started sorting through the stack of envelopes, he watched Betty skip down her front steps to grab the newspaper from the curb. They froze and stared at each other, and Betty looked embarrassed.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Reggie exhaled a heavy breath, then met her halfway, letting the hedge stand between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be too sorry. He was a jerk.” She peered down at his hand. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.” His knuckles were swollen and bruised, and he’d gotten a little cut, but it wasn’t too bad.

“I heard you playing earlier,” she told him. “Sounded pretty good.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Had a little time on my hands.” His suspension. She nodded, then stared down at her hands.

“Look… I know you meant well. I just… I don’t want anyone to ever fight over me like that, and I hated seeing you get hurt. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to play the whole ‘big brother’ act.”

“Okay. I wasn’t, but okay.” He backed off, and Betty felt a pang of disappointment. “I thought I was just being your friend.”

“You are my friend.”

“Okay.” He waved over his shoulder without looking back at her. “G’night, Bets.” His front door banged shut after him, and she made a noise of disgust at herself.

“Great. Just great.”


	6. Smells Like Team Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Nothing like a little competitive spirit to break the ice.

Author’s Note: One of the things I’ve always liked about Betty is that she’s a definite tomboy. Actually, I like MOST things about Betty, since she’s also crafty, artsy, a great writer, a good cook, and loves animals, so that might explain why most of the stuff in my DeviantArt gallery centers around her. But I hinted at the fact that she used to play baseball with the boys in the first chapter, and that brought me back to a recent reprint in one of the Betty and Veronica Digests where she was playing on the team with them, uniform and everything, and when Archie skips a game, because she’s playing shortstop for him, and then he shows up in the stands on a date with Veronica, she hits him with a bean ball. It was awesome. It was classic. That inspired me.

Betty stamped her feet on the welcome mat as she keyed her way inside the house, glad to shuck her boots once she closed the door. “Brrrrrr…” Riverdale was caught in the beginnings of its cold snap, like clockwork, as it began to snow two weeks after Thanksgiving. Her toes felt like ice cubes even in their double layers of socks as she padded into the kitchen. She laid her damp gloves, hat and scarf over the radiator to dry and turned up the thermostat just a notch. As she turned on the kitchen light, she spied her mother’s small Post-it on the fridge, scrawled in her curly handwriting.

 

_There’s pot roast in the fridge that just needs heating up in the microwave. Help yourself._

 

“Yay,” Betty murmured. That meant she didn’t have to make dinner herself, which gave her a little more time to goof around. She opened the door and found the red ceramic bakeware dish covered in tin foil and set it on the counter. She went about setting the table and then texted her mother to let her know she was back.

Betty: I saw the pot roast. Am I warming up the whole thing?

She fixed herself a cup of cocoa while she waited for a reply. Just as she tore open an envelope of Swiss Miss with marshmallows, she heard her phone ping.

Alice: Yes, please. Your father’s working late, and I had a meeting tonight. Heat the whole thing and set the table. We’ll be back in a half an hour.

Betty: Okey dokey. 

Betty set the microwave and let dinner reheat, then flopped onto the couch with her cocoa. Every muscle ached and complained as she began to warm herself up. Practice was, as usual, brutal. Veronica pouted when Betty told her that she was heading home directly, begging off so she could study for her chemistry test. Covalent bonds waited for no one. Betty reminded herself, not bitterly, of course, that Veronica had Archie to keep her company in Betty’s stead, especially since he flunked biology the year before and had to take it again; thanks to heavy tutoring from Dilton and from his constant reliance on Betty’s carefully scribed notes, he was passing with a solid C so that he could continue to play basketball.

He was still weird around her.

Every time Betty resigned herself to the fact that yes, Archie was her best friend’s boyfriend, he would do something to throw her off-balance and weaken her resolve to back off. Lunch period was awkward. Like, really awkward. When Betty would hunt for her friends to share a table, there was Veronica, holding court, and Betty would automatically beeline for the empty seat next to her, but sometimes, Archie would be there if she forgot to get milk and got back in line, and when she would attempt to join her bestie, there he was, in her spot. There would be a brief – yet friendly, she supposed – standoff when she would approach the table. Nancy, Ethel and Midge would greet her with their customary grins, and Archie would smile up at her sheepishly.

“That’s my cue to go,” he would tell Ron easily. “Hey, Bets.”

“Hey.” Her cheeks burned, and she would stare down at her macaroni and cheese plate as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world while Archie would scramble up from his – Betty’s – seat. 

“You don’t have to… I can always-“ Betty would always look around for an empty chair to drag to the table, but he would always shake his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Archie told her cheerfully. Veronica would smirk up at him and give him a smacker, lingering over it, drawing it into their usual three short pecks. Then he’d brush past Betty, giving her a brief pat. “All yours. See ya.” She felt his phantom touch even after he left, giving her a little shiver of guilty pleasure.

“Bye.” She would join Veronica, who would automatically – grudgingly, though? – make room for her. Her seat was warm from the contact, and it made Betty shiver again.

“Should’ve just pulled up a chair,” Veronica complained.

“Juggie was looking for him, anyway,” Betty pointed out, which wasn’t a lie. Jug was always looking for Archie at lunch time to borrow money.

It didn’t help that no matter where Veronica went, Archie was sure to follow. It was getting more difficult to get time alone with Ron, yet Betty didn’t want to be the bad friend and have Ron think she was resentful of her “coupled” status. But it just made it so darned awkward. It was so hard not to think about that kiss on her porch, and in contrast, that horrible set-up date for the formal. What was Ron _thinking?_ Stan had been awful, not Betty’s type at all.

The only problem was, the one boy she considered her type was off-limits. Betty fought with all of the voices in her head that screamed to her to touch him again, to kiss him again, but she knew he belonged to Veronica. She hated that it was this hard, hating herself a little every time she stared at his mouth.

Hated the pull he had on her, as though invisible strings knotted them together.

She thought about what Reggie said the other day, and it rankled. After the whole mess at the dance, he was right; she should have been just as angry at Archie for interfering and jumping into that fight… even though she felt a tiny, niggling glow of pleasure that they both came to her defense. But it wasn’t fair that she snapped at him and told him to mind his own business. Not when he meant well. She sighed at the memory of Reggie’s narrowed eyes and tightened lips. Part of her wanted to apologize to him again; he’d been pretty cool toward her since the night she ran into him at the mailbox.

 

Betty did her homework and greeted her parents with hugs and kisses. Dinner was unremarkable and tasty. She checked her Facebook feed, answered a few texts from Nancy, and tried to get those mischievous blue eyes out of her head.

It was impossible.

*

Betty ran suicide laps until she tasted salt on her upper lip and her tank top was clinging to her. It felt good to take out her aggression on the brown practice ball, listening to the thuds as it hit the polished floor. She kept up her eye fakes, head fakes, and caught almost every rebound. Miss Grundy’s whistle blast made all of the girls freeze and nearly collapse, panting limply against each other before they huddled around their coach.

“All right. Good scrimmage. I have a little surprise today. Coach Kleats and I decided to shake things up a little. We’re practicing with the boys’ team today.” Gasps and snickers greeted this news.

“This is gonna be good,” Midge gloated.

“Knew if we were patient enough, they’d take that thing down,” Nancy murmured to Betty, nodding to the partition wall. Betty grinned back and gave her a fist bump. She felt a warm glow thinking about seeing the boys out on the court.

“It’s still going to be shirts versus skins,” Miss Grundy told them. “And first string against first string.” Ethel snapped her fingers in disappointment.

“I wanted to play with Juggie,” she complained. The drummer was first string, while Ethel was still trying to prove herself.

“Next time,” Betty promised.

The partition rolled back, and as the boys came into view, they started hooting at their competition, giving cat calls and whistles. Coach Kleats shook his head and blasted his whistle. Miss Grundy made “don’t do that” motions with her finger. Reggie and Jason were leering and giving the girls “how YOU doin’?” faces, nodding in approval at the selection. Betty blushed. She knew she was a mess in her baggy basketball practice shorts, sloppy tank and sports bra, and sweaty hair, bangs plastered to her forehead. Her face was flushed bright pink.

Reggie wouldn’t admit out loud that she looked hot.

“This is gonna be easy,” Moose muttered.

“Bet they’re afraid they’ll break a nail,” Chuck chimed in, and then he noticed Nancy was giving him a dirty look. “Not you, baby,” he crooned in pacifying tones. His team let out a chorus of “oooooooh’s” until Coach Kleats brought them in line with another whistle blow.

“Shirts versus skins,” he bellowed. “Girls get left court.”

“We rotate each quarter,” Miss Grundy added. “Betty, you get the tip-in.”

“Of course I end up against Moose,” she groused, and Moose was already smirking.

“I’ll try to go easy on ya, Blondie.”

“Pfft… stuff it,” she told him easily.

“She told you!” Chuck snickered, while Moose looked aghast.

“That’s what I get for trying to be nice?”

“Girl’s got sass,” Jason marveled.

“Yeah, she does,” Archie agreed.

“She’s still gonna get beat,” Reggie said with a shrug. Betty heard him and gave him the stink-eye. Reggie mock-cowered, then smirked back.

“Line ‘em up!”

The girls took their positions and Coach Kleats tossed up the ball. Just as Betty predicted, Moose snatched the tip-in, swatting it over her head. She growled under her breath and got her head in the game.

The boys were fast, and they were sneaky. Rebounds were important, Betty decided, since that was the girls’ best method to get their hands on the ball. Reggie quickly became a thorn in her side. He faked her out, blocked her passes and fouled her off the sidelines at every opportunity. She hissed out a breath when he stole the ball mid-dribble and fed it to Archie. “Damn it!” she hissed. 

“Midge!” Betty screamed when the tiny brunette managed to snake it away from him when he dribbled too high. “Pass it to Nancy!”

“I know, I know,” Midge groused. “Here!” 

“I won’t leave you hanging,” Nancy muttered as she dribbled up the court.

“Nice!” Miss Grundy called out, grinning. Coach Kleats was pacing up and down the edge of the court.

“Look alive, boys! They’re making you look bad!” The boys were ahead by six points, but they were struggling for it. Midge was the shortest girl on the team, but she could shoot and she was fast. She’d also had three years of practicing with Moose, albeit playfully, so she knew his moves.

Reggie fouled Betty out again when he slapped her pass out of the air and off the sidelines. “What?!” 

“Sloppy,” he told her, shrugging. 

“You suck,” she muttered, but it was as a good a time as any to practice her free throw. They lined up along the court, and Betty blew her hangs off her forehead, giving the ball a few good dribbles and lining up her shot. She crouched and came up nice and clean, letting the ball roll off her left hand’s fingertips – she was a lefthanded shooter – and the neat swish was like a kiss. Midge caught the rebound and passed it back to her, grinning.

“Luck doesn’t replace talent,” Reggie jeered.

“Don’t make me sit you out,” Coach Kleats warned on a low growl. “It’s called sportsmanship, Mantle.” Archie stared at her, watching her hands; Betty saw her dribbling ball reflected in those blue eyes before she remembered she had to look up at the hoop. 

Crouch. Spring. Shoot…

…bouuunnncccccccccccceee…

Shit.

Reggie took the ball and ran with it. “Nice try,” he muttered as she blocked him.

“I’m not done,” she huffed.

“Yeah, you are.” He faked left and then passed it to Jughead, who actually had the decency to look a little frightened of Betty. He decided on the better part of discretion and passed it to Jason, who didn’t get very far when Midge blocked his pass.

“Good hustle!” Miss Grundy cheered.

By the end of the first half, everyone was dragging. “Second string. Shirts right, skins left.” They switched sides and rotated their roster; there was a rush to get to the water fountains by the door. The boys stepped aside to let the girls drink first, and Betty tried to make it brief. She felt a poke in her side, anyway, and she ended up snorting up water into her nose. “ACK!”

“Oops,” Reggie teased.

“Uggghhh… you SUCK!” She wiped her face on her tank, exposing her flat belly as she did so. Reggie, Archie and Jason glanced down briefly in appreciation and then averted their eyes before she could notice.

“The water… it goes, you know, in your mouth,” Reggie suggested helpfully. Betty turned back to the fountain and doused her hand under the spout. Reggie didn’t like the gleam in her eye, and she ran at him, shaking and flicking her fingers at him and showering him with drops. “HeyheyHEY! That’s mature!”

“Have a drink! Have a shower!”

“That’s enough,” Miss Grundy reminded them. She gave Betty a chiding look that said the blonde should know better. Betty fumed. The first string players retired to the bleachers and gulped bottled water and Gatorade, wiping themselves down with towels. Chuck plunked himself down between Betty and Nancy, playfully body-checking Betty aside. Betty tsked and gave him a little shove, but he was grinning at her.

“Gotta practice that free throw.”

“I know, I know.”

“When you play against Reggie, fake left. He hates that. That’s his bad side.”

“Ahhhh…”

“Not supposed to sell out your boy,” Nancy reminded him.

“He’s getting a little comfy. It’s making him lazy. Betty’ll keep him on his toes,” Chuck pointed out. Nancy nodded; Betty beamed.

“I’m gonna try.” Reggie stood on the sidelines talking trash with Jason, and he glanced toward the bleachers, no doubt feeling his ears burn as the subject of their conversation. He nodded at Betty and winked. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he just smirked.

“That’s mature,” Chuck teased.

“Oh, hush, you.”

The second string teams were pretty evenly matched. Ethel took the tip-in from Bingo, surprising everybody, and her passing game improved. Betty and Nancy shouted themselves hoarse cheering for their friend. By the end of the fourth quarter, the boys only beat the girls’ team by six points.

“Excellent hustle,” Miss Grundy called out. “Line up. Shake hands.” Every player was dead on their feet and slouching as they dutifully got in line for a high-five. Betty gave Chuck a fist-bump when she reached him; Jason did the whole yank-the-hand-back-and-run-it-through-your-hair routine, making her roll her eyes. Moose gave her five, muttering “gotta work on that tip-in, Cooper.” 

Reggie reached her at the end of the line, and she caught him winking at Midge, which annoyed her. She wanted to swat him upside the head and tell him “You see her boyfriend right there, right?” He saw that she caught him, and he smirked. He held out his hand for a high five, but then ducked and poked her in the side again, hitting her right where she was most ticklish.

“Coach, Reggie’s being a jerk!” Betty whined. The boys snickered, and she lifted her fist, making him dart off, unsure whether or not she would take umbrage. Reggie’s expression was wicked and he was very pleased with himself.

“That’s enough of that,” Kleats told them blandly. “Collect the balls and cones!”

Dirty sweat towels were dropped into the barrel and bottles were collected from the bleachers before both teams filed out of the gym. The girls buffeted each other as they headed for the cramped rows of lockers and began retrieving shampoo and deodorant. They were joined shortly by the cheerleading squad, and Veronica wrinkled her nose at Betty’s disheveled state.

“Ew. You look all funky.” She fanned the air. “Smell funky, too.”

“Here, give me a great big hug,” Betty teased, rushing at her. Veronica squealed and swatted her away.

“Ew! EW! Gross!”

“How was practice?”

“I’m bushed. It was good. Hurry up and change, and we’ll head to Pop’s.” Betty beamed until she added “We’re meeting Archie there.”

“Oh. Um…I might be a while. Why don’t you go ahead and meet him, and I’ll catch up to you later.”

“Betty, don’t be a goof. I’ll give you a ride. It beats walking. Hurry up!” Veronica dropped her end of the argument when her phone buzzed in her purse. “Ooh, there he is…”

Betty scrambled away and hopped into the shower, beating Midge’s lunge for it. “Sorry,” she called back. “Just be a minute.”

“I’m so funky right now,” Midge complained. “Please don’t take long.” Betty yelped at the cold spray as it hit her skin; she left her clothes balled up in a little stack just outside the curtain and her towel hung on the hook. She shampooed her hair quickly, not crazy about the idea of heading out into the chill with wet hair, but sweaty hair wasn’t much better. Her cheeks felt hot with frustration. Why did Ron have to invite Archie along?

She hurriedly dressed and yanked a comb through her damp locks, jerking it back into some semblance of a ponytail before rolling on some Speed Stick. “C’mon,” Veronica scolded. “Let’s get there before everybody else does so we can get a parking space.”

“You can go without me,” Betty reminded her.

“Why would I do that?” Veronica scoffed, nudging her. “Why’re you being weird?”

“M’not.”

“No, this is you being weird. We always go to Pop’s after practice.”

“I know.” Betty tossed her toiletries into her locker, yanked out her Jansport pack and slammed the door. “I kinda didn’t want to be, y’know… a third wheel?”

“Pfffft… no,” Veronica insisted. “No,” she emphasized more loudly. “Who says you’re a third wheel? You’re my bestie. Come and bask in all of my glory. Archie will be basking, too. You can both _bask._ Won’t that be great?”

“Oh, brother…” Betty rolled her eyes and allowed Veronica to link her arm through hers.

“There’s a root beer float calling your name… listen. You can hear it. Bettyyyyy… drink meeeeeee…”

“You’re twisted.”

“You love me.”

“I love you. I do. But you’re twisted.” Betty’s stomach knotted up at the prospect of seeing Archie again. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as they headed to the parking lot. They saw several of their friends waving them down and getting into their respective cars: Ethel into her pink VW, Nancy into Chuck’s Prius, Cheryl into her Benz, which made Veronica tsk under her breath in disgust.

“God, I hate her…”

“You’re dad promised you a Mercedes after we graduate,” Betty reminded her.

“I know. But I still hate her.” Cheryl gave them a short wave just shy of flipping them off. Betty nodded back to be polite, but Veronica ignored her. “Ugh…”

“Be nice.” They were interrupted by the blast of a car horn, and they turned to find Archie leaning out the window of his Mustang, grinning at them.

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” he accused.

“I was waiting for slowpoke, here,” Veronica teased, making Betty roll her eyes. Didn’t she say she didn’t really want to go?

“There you go, holding up the show,” Archie chimed in. He crowed “Oooooooooooh!!!! when Betty flipped him off. “Someone’s still pissed off about that foul.”

“Someone’s still a high dribbler,” she shot back, but she was grinning. Archie chuckled as he drove up alongside them and leaned out of his window.

“See you there?” he asked Veronica. She walked up to him and bent down to give him a sloppy kiss, making Betty sigh gustily. Why did they always have to do that with an audience?

“See you in two shakes.” He drove off, and Betty heard him turn on his loud, staticky radio, blaring Nickelback as he left the lot. They climbed into Veronica’s Jeep, and just as they were buckling up, they heard another horn. Veronica peered into her rearview and made a sound of disgust.

“What’s Mantle want?” Betty craned her neck around and saw the brunet waving to them. His top was up due to the cold, and he was bundled up in a North Face jacket and a baseball cap, looking sickeningly well groomed and refreshed.

“Where you two headed?” he called out.

“Pop’s,” Ron replied impatiently. “You’re holding us up!”

“Save us a table,” he told her as he peeled out.

“Nice. Time to listen to Mantle the Mouth,” Veronica grumbled.

“You know you’re his biggest fan,” Betty teased. To be fair, Veronica and Reggie got along fine. It wasn’t much of a secret that he had the hots for her, but her longstanding obsession with Archie kept him from making much progress, particularly when there were so many other girls that were only too happy to hand over their digits, lured in by the ol’ Mantle charm.

“He’s so full of himself. He can be fun,” Veronica admitted. “But I’m not getting on that bandwagon.”

“Yeah,” Betty sighed. “No kidding.”

She watched his comings and goings from over the hedge and from her bedroom window. Reggie had been busy following his breakup with Clarissa. He was one of the only people she knew that changed his Facebook status from “Single” to “In a relationship” about every three weeks. She heard him whistling on his way out to his car around nine, and heard him pulling in slowly and quietly to his driveway around midnight, trying to open the front door with as little jiggling as possible. But she always caught him tiptoeing in after curfew, wondering what kind of fun he’d had. It had to be pretty cool, being the bad boy. 

So there they were, headed to Pop’s, and Betty’s stomach was still doing little annoying jumpy things as Ronnie prattled on.

“…I’ve still got those shoes you wanted to borrow,” she told Betty.

“Huh?”

“What’s up? You’re zoning out.” Veronica’s brows drew together. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I guess.” Betty rubbed her nape and tugged on her ponytail in thought. “I’m just tired. Whipped. They ran us pretty hard. We had a scrimmage against the boys.” Ron’s eyes widened.

“Wow! No wonder you’re worn out. Was it awesome?” She was grinning now. “All those cute, sweaty guys in shorts…”

“Sheesh.” Betty rolled her eyes, but she nodded. “Yes. Cute. Sweaty. I’ll admit it. But they handed our butts to us. Just by six points, but still… kinda sucked.”

“Wish I was on the sidelines. I would’ve rooted for you.”

“Suuurrre…” Betty gave Ron her best “not EVEN” look and made a dismissive gesture. Ron chuckled.

“I would’ve!”

“You know you would’ve been rooting for Archie.”

“Well, him, too… .I AM his girlfriend, that’s what gf’s do,” Veronica pointed out. Betty’s fuzzy glow dimmed a bit, and she lapsed back into silence. “But I would’ve still cheered you on a little.”

“You’re so loyal to me,” Betty deadpanned.

“I know. I am.” Ron kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to shake Betty’s shoulder. “You love me.”

“Yes, yes, yes… drive, woman.”

They pulled into the lot at the Chok’lit Shoppe and noticed there was already a crowd. Betty felt self-conscious about her damp hair and flushed cheeks. “I want cocoa,” she told Ron.

“Sounds good to me.” They eased into a booth in the back, and Archie emerged from the men’s a couple of moments later, then beamed. 

“Hey. I already had a table over there.”

“So bring your stuff here,” Veronica told him simply. He sighed fondly.

“Yes, your Majesty.” Betty snickered at his expression, and he winked at her.

“Wonder if he ordered?”

“They can bring all of it at the same time,” Veronica said with a shrug. “He can wait for us.” She took a menu and perused it. “Cocoa still sounds good. I dunno. Eh. I might get a diet Coke.”

“It’s too cold for Coke!” Betty exclaimed. “Get something warm!”

“I’m watching my figure.” 

“Pffft… I’m getting chocolate. Watch away.” Betty figured her scrimmage made the calories not count. Archie came back with his jacket and hung it over the top of the booth’s seat before sliding in next to Veronica.

“Gonna head right home and work on those free throws?” Archie teased.

“Uh-uh. Gonna work on my trig homework.” Ronnie made a face.

“I’m so glad I’m in Algebra II. Trig sounds so boring.”

“It’ll help when I take calculus next year,” Betty told her. “I’m enjoying it.”

“You sound like Dilton,” Archie teased. “Miss Big Brain.”

“Nerd,” Veronica chimed in.

“Oh, hush up, you.” Betty narrowed her eyes, and she’d already stripped her drinking straw of its wrapper. She tore off a bit, tucked it into the end, and blew a spitball at her bestie in umbrage.

“Ew… germs!”

“This one plays dirty,” Archie mentioned, and Betty blushed. Their impromptu lunch date at Pop’s came to mind, bringing memories of laughter and spilled soda. Archie cleared his throat and looked away.

“What’s UP!” Reggie hooted from the doorway. He peeled off his thin gloves and flexed his fingers, looming over their booth. “What are we having?”

“Not Diet Coke,” Betty told him avidly.

“Speak for yourself,” Veronica told her haughtily.

“Ew. ‘Diet’ anything’s just… ew.” He sneered at the thought. “You ordered yet?” He nodded down to Betty, and when he started to sit down on the edge of the booth seat, crowding her, she realized he expected to hang out with them. Flustered, she scooched over several inches, feeling awkward. “Move over, bacon,” he teased. She held up her hand to swat him, and he mock-cowered. 

“Who’re you calling ‘bacon’?” He grinned at her and yanked her ponytail, and she elbowed him, hard. 

“Ow… are you just gonna let her beat me?” Reggie whined to Veronica and Archie. Ronnie shook her head, bringing no sympathy to the table.

“Wuss.”

“Chump,” Archie agreed, and he gave Betty a wicked smile. Pop came by and took their orders.

“One DIET Coke, Pops, and a Caesar salad,” Veronica told him proudly. 

“On a cold day like this?” he asked, but he scribbled it down anyway. “What about you, Suzy Q?”

“Hot cocoa. Extra whip. And a fry basket.” Pop smiled.

“Good choice. Archie?”

“Western burger, skip the fries. Toss a root beer next to it.”

“I’ll have what Betty’s having,” Reggie told Pop. Ronnie rolled her eyes and mimicked him under her breath in a little snippy voice. Reggie picked up one of Betty’s spit balls she’d made while reading her menu and threw it at her, and the look Ron gave him promised him retribution. He stuck out his tongue at her.

“Behave,” Pops chided them, but he was smirking. “Coming right up.”

Reggie bumped up against Betty again. “You’re hogging all the space, Blondie.”

“Um, you have plenty of room,” Betty nagged back, but she moved another half a foot. To her consternation, he followed her and shouldered up against her again. She glared at him; he smirked back. She tsked and rolled her eyes.

“Quit playing footsie,” Veronica scolded, and Betty didn’t like the gleam in her eye. 

“Get a room,” Archie joked, but somehow his smile didn’t reach his eyes as he looked at Betty, and she felt herself blush again. What was his deal?

A droplet of an idea hit the surface of her mind, creating ripples. Was Archie… jealous?

Not… of Reggie?

Reggie saved her from having to recover from that awkward, shameful thought. “We’ve got a game against Central this Friday. Cheer extra loud,” Reggie told Veronica.

“I’ll be screaming my heart out,” Veronica promised, then rolled her eyes. 

“You, too.” He elbowed Betty again.

“We’re playing Central on Saturday,” Betty reminded him. “I don’t hear you promising to cheer on the girls’ team.”

“Pfft… girls’ team. That doesn’t count,” he teased, but he tugged her ponytail to let her know he was kidding. “I know your game’s on Saturday. That gives you plenty of time to watch ours on Friday.”

“Sheesh…”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” Reggie told her, grinning wolfishly and wiggling his eyebrows. Betty facepalmed and ducked her head.

“Geez, I’m not hearing this,” Veronica announced, aghast and eyes round.

“Uh, I mean, I’ll come to yours if you come to mine,” he amended.

“Oh, sure, Reg, that’s what you meant.” Betty was still covering her face, but she was snickering. He poked her, and she swatted him back.

“You’re awful.”

“I’m awesome,” he corrected her.

“Noooooo… I’m with Bets on this one,” Veronica told him. “You’re a sicko, Mantle.”

“Part of my charm.” 

The boys and girls chatted across each other, talking about shopping trips and sports scores respectively until their food came. Archie occasionally stole Ron’s croutons from her salad until she smacked his hand. “You’re watching your figure. I’m just helping you.”

“I know you’re watching it,” she said smugly. They canoodled and stole a kiss, and Reggie made gagging noises. Betty almost snorted cocoa out her nose. Reggie raised his brows at her.

“Someone can’t hold their cocoa. I’m cutting you off.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Betty gasped, coughing and snickering at the same time.

“I try.” They were halfway through their food when Chuck and Nancy showed up. 

“Whassup!” Chuck gave his teammates fist bumps and nodded to Reggie. “Scoot over.”

“Betty’s the one taking up all the space,” Reggie insisted, and Betty tsked before she moved halfway around the circular seat. Chuck shook his head. 

“Just get up, I wanna sit next to Betty.”

“Uh, no,” Nancy told him firmly, jerking her neck in a circle. He held up his hands.

“All right, all right… the lady has SPOKEN,” he amended. “Scoot, Mantle.” 

“All the way over, Betty,” Nancy told her. Betty was getting tired of moving. Instead of squeezing in next to Archie so she could face Chuck, Nancy got in next to him, and Betty found herself smooshed between Veronica and… Reggie.

Well. There you go…

He was warm. Nice and toasty warm. He smelled like Old Spice body wash and detergent. “You’ll make room for everybody else,” he accused her.

“Goofy,” she shot back.

“Goober,” he challenged. He elbowed her, and she elbowed him back, and it became a little battle of I-got-ya-last.

“What’s with you two?” Chuck asked.

“She won’t stop touching me!” Reggie told him, like they were siblings instead of neighbors.

“He started it!” Betty argued.

“She farted,” Reggie told Chuck.

“Aw, girl, that’s nasty,” Nancy said, turning up her nostril in disgust, but she laughed.

“I don’t fart, I pass gas,” Betty sniffed.

“TMI,” Archie told her, but he was snickering.

Chuck and Nancy ordered hot chocolate, so they didn’t have to wait long enough that their friends would be finished first. Betty was enjoying herself, and Veronica, despite being less than enthused that Reggie was coming to Pop’s earlier, was joking with him and acting like everything was copacetic. 

“Want the rest of my salad? I don’t want anymore,” Veronica told Archie.

“Nah. All the croutons are gone.” Those were the only part he liked. 

“Those were mine,” she pouted.

“Awwww.” He made a little pouty face at her, then kissed her.

“No! Not kissy-face!” Reggie cried, horrified. 

“You know you love it,” Nancy teased, and she gave Chuck several big, loud smoochy kisses on the cheek while Chuck made faces and pretended to struggle, but he was laughing.

“Ugh,” Betty muttered, disgusted but ready to crack up from Chuck’s expression. He turned to Nancy and rubbed noses with her, then gave her a proper kiss. “Okay, it’s just getting gross now…”

“Aw, poor widdle Bettykins,” Reggie crooned, and he threw an arm around her shoulders. Her blue eyes widened in horror at what was to come, and his embrace turned into a headlock.

“Ugh… no… nonoNO! EW!” Reggie licked her cheek, leaving a hot, wet stripe of slobber over her skin. “Oh, God! GROSS! EW!” Archie and Veronica were sitting across the way, dying.

“That’s so nasty,” Nancy repeated. “Reg, you’re not right…”

“I never said I was,” he agreed while Betty squirmed away from him and wiped her face, making “I’ve got cooties!” faces and smacking him in the chest. She knew she was even redder in the face than she’d been all day.

“Sicko,” Betty told him, echoing Veronica’s earlier sentiment.

“You taste salty,” Reggie told her innocently.

“Something died on your tonsils,” Betty told him, fanning the air. Reggie’s brows shot up, and he breathed into his palm to smell his breath.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he told her. “Jerk.”

“Creep.”

Pop slapped the bill on the table. “Let me know when you’re ready to settle up!”

 

When the last fragment of grease-soaked fry was finished and the leftover film of cocoa was scraped up from the rim of empty cups, they scooted out of the booth and stretched. Chuck handed Archie a five. “That should cover us, man.”

“Yup.” They low-fived. “See you guys tomorrow.” Nancy looped her arm through Chuck’s and waved at her friends.

“I’ve got French homework, but I’ll be online later. Facebook me.”

“That’s fine,” Ron called after her. “Bye, Nance.”

“Bye, babe,” Betty added. She turned to Veronica. “Ready?”

“Ready, Freddie.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ron,” Reggie piped up suddenly. “Bets can ride with me.”

“I came with Ronnie,” Betty reminded him.

“I live closer,” he reminded her, as though she were five. “Like, a lot closer.”

“That’s fine. Just get your bag from my trunk,” Veronica said, nonplussed and missing Betty’s signals of panic.

She’d rode home with Reggie before, multiple times. So why did this time make her feel weird? Like, fluttery stomach-weird. She went to hand Archie a handful of singles for her food, but Ron stopped her. “I’ve got it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get your bag.” The girls hurried out to the car after Veronica handed Archie a twenty. Reggie inwardly rolled his eyes that Archie was letting Veronica pay. Reggie added his cash to the kitty and headed outside while Archie settled up, jingling his car keys in his pocket.

Veronica unlocked her trunk and Betty scooped up her backpack. “Facebook me if you want.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be. I have trig, and then laundry.” Veronica made a face.

“Yuck.”

“If I’m on, it might be late.” Reggie hovered nearby, nodding to Betty. 

“Ready, Bets?”

“Uh-huh.” She gave Veronica a quick hug. “This was fun.”

“Bye!” She waved to Archie, who looked… slightly disappointed?

“Bye,” he told them as they headed for Reggie’s car. Betty waved.

“See ya.” She tried – and failed – not to stare after him from the passenger window once she’d buckled herself in. Reggie turned on the car, and suddenly she felt her seat warm up. “Ooh. This is nice.”

“The newer models have the seat warmer,” he mentioned idly. He steered them out of the lot, and he nodded as Archie waved at them both one last time from the curb.

“Must be nice,” Betty said. “At this rate, I’ll never get wheels.”

“Does that mean I hafta keep carting your behind around?” Reggie mocked, giving her an annoyed look and a heavy sigh. 

“Pffft… jerk.” But she was smirking and toying with her ponytail. The ride home was cozy with his phone plugged in with a Bluetooth to the speakers so they could listen to his Spotify playlist. Betty hummed along with a Foo Fighters song under her breath.

“So you’re coming Friday?” he asked her.

“Huh?”

“The game. Against Central.”

“Oh. Well, if you want. I wouldn’t mind going to see it.”

“C’mon. Show a little school spirit, Cooper.” She chuckled.

“You never go to the girls’ games.”

“No one’s ever invited me.” He stared ahead at the road when she glanced at him, then did a double take.

“Well… you never said you wanted to go.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said, throwing her own words back at her.

“Well, all right, then.”

“Well, all right, then.” He mimicked her haughty tone, caught her eye, then gave her a crooked little smile.

They reached their block, and Betty almost felt disappointed. “I’m nice and warm now. I hate to have to get out.”

“So, don’t,” he suggested simply.

“Don’t?”

“You don’t have to get out yet,” he said. “How about another spin around the block?”

“I have homework. So do you.” Her lips twisted, though. “Around the block?”

“Yup.” He’d slowed to a stop in front of her curb, then took his foot lightly off the brake. To her amusement, they circled the block, and she just shook her head.

“You’re funny.”

“I can’t help it if I have all the brilliant ideas.”

“You can kind of help it,” she corrected him. 

“You wound me.”

“No. You wounded ME. You could warn a girl before covering her in slobber.” He grinned.

“The opportunity was there. I couldn’t let it go.” They parked in front of her house this time, and he shifted the gear to ‘P.’ The motor was still running. “Can I talk you into one more go around the block?”

“Do you know how people would talk if they knew you and I had been around the block?” His smile faltered a moment, but there was a funny gleam in his dark eyes.

“Think they’d talk?”

“Oh, yeah.” But her pulse skipped, then tripled. “I had fun-“ Her words were cut off by the click of his seatbelt, and then hers as he hit the release button that made it automatically retract. “Oh. Hey.”

“C’mere.” Those were his fingers lightly cupping her cheek – not the one he’d licked – and he was leaning in, and now her heart was pounding in her chest, becausewhattheheckwashedoingwasthisreallyhappening-

His mouth was warm and soft. Her eyes fluttered shut as she processed the feel of him, of the lack of space between them again in his warm car, with the engine purring and music pumping from the speakers. The kiss was a soft brush of his lips, and she whimpered, unable to believe that was her own voice. He chased the sound, stroking her lips again, and slowly she got the memo and began to kiss him back.

She tasted like chocolate and salt. The small, startled sound she made was like a caress, and his insides lit up with a thousand sparks. He felt her hand drift up to his neck, lightly gripping his collar, then sliding her fingers into his hair. Her touch felt right, her mouth was inviting, and he couldn’t get enough of her scent, her taste…

“Reg,” she gasped, breaking away from him and breathing hard. “Um… I’d better… go. Thanks.” She was flushed again and hating it.

“Yeah. Okay.” He felt bereft when she took her heat away, and his neck missed the feel of her fingers. “See you tomorrow.”

“Do your homework.” She carefully shut his door and waved, looping her pack over her shoulder. “Bye,” she mouthed before she sprinted up her front walk.

“Shit,” he muttered helplessly as he pulled out of her driveway and into his. He cut the engine and just sat there for a moment as he processed what just happened.

“Shit,” he repeated.

He was so screwed.


	7. Nosey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Things are more confusing than ever after The Big Kiss. (The second one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been enjoying all the feedback I’ve gotten from this story, and I’m having fun with the updates as time allows. Archie comics are kinda like addictive, fluffy crack. It’s fun to imagine a little of what these characters would be like as real people, including the background cast and parents. Betty’s mom is modeled a lot after my own. So is Miss Grundy. I picture Mayim Bialik the way she was on Blossom when I write dialogue and clothing selections for Ethel in my stories, in quirky, nerdy chic. I try to stick to what I know.
> 
> I had some feedback a while ago on a different site that Reggie is over-romanticized and written out of character to be too nice for the sake of pairing him up with Betty. That’s fair criticism, but in response to that, I have to say that: Even people who we think of as jerks get dates and have relationships. Not every woman is a Betty. Not every man is an Archie. The good girl/bad boy trope is fun to write and read. Sometimes I do write Reg as a jerk. But by the same token that he’s capable of making Betty squirt water up her nose or admit out loud what color underwear she is wearing, I also see him as the type to secretly enjoy being competitive with her to make her a better athlete or to do some little thing to make her bad day seem a little better.
> 
> But yeah. He’s still gonna have his jerky moments. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be Reggie.

“Bets! Wait up!” Betty cringed and fought the urge to speed up as she walked to math class. Veronica caught up to her in a hail of clopping sounds, hurrying after Betty in her high-heeled Manolo boots.

“Hey. I’ve gotta rush.”

“I know. You never answered my text!”

“I was gonna get to it.”

“What time did you get home last night?”

“Right after we left Pop’s.”

“I thought you were gonna call me.”

“I got a little busy.” Betty was fighting the hot prickles spreading down her nape and over her cheeks. She was trying not to sound annoyed, but she wasn’t in shape to deal with Ronnie at the moment. “What’d you text me about?”

“Check your phone,” she countered, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to know how it went.”

“How what went?”

“Going home with Reg.” Betty’s heart pounded, and she whirled on her friend, eyes wide.

“I didn’t go home with him! I mean, to his house! He took me to MY house! Nothing happened!”

“I didn’t say it did-“ Betty cut her off, but Veronica’s eyebrows rose in interest.

“Well, it didn’t. So… yeah. I just headed home. He dropped me off.” After an indolent ride around the block, and a kiss that she could still feel, that her mind had on constant loop.

“Okay. I believe you.” Veronica’s lips twisted into a smirk that belied that she didn’t believe any such thing. “Sure are touchy today.”

“I’m not touchy,” Betty told her, touchily. They continued their progress toward Betty’s class.

“If you say so. So… about Reg. What was up with him yesterday? You must’ve made some impression on him.”

“What do you mean?” Betty’s palms grew clammy, and she clutched her book needlessly tight to her chest.

“He was all goofy. Well, goofier than usual. And he was all touchy-feely.” Betty shook her head, even though she totally agreed.

“No. Nothing out of the ordinary. We always horse around like that. Always have.”

“If you say so,” Ron repeated. “I dunno. I just got a different vibe off him yesterday when you were hanging out.”

“We weren’t even ‘hanging out.’ We were squooshed.” Veronica snickered.

“I know. I didn’t mind that part too much on my end.”

“Next to your man,” Betty said with a sigh.

“Of course!” Veronica looked smug. Betty wanted to reach out and pinch her.

“Reg was just being Reg.”

“Sure he was.” Betty didn’t like her tone.

“Ron, quit being weird.”

“I’m not. But Reggie was.”

“He was not being weird!” Betty threw up her hand. “Not any weirder than usual!”

Veronica’s smirk twitched. Then widened.

“Stop giving me that look.”

Veronica grinned outright and wagged her finger at her bestie. “He likes youuuuuuuu…”

“Oh, my freakin’ God…” Betty clapped her hand over her mouth when her voice carried and their peers stared at them while they passed. “Ron, shut up!”

“I’m not the one yelling.” Veronica was sounding very pleased with herself. “C’mon. All touchy-feely? All bumped up against you?”

“Squooshed. Not bumped up together.”

“Close enough. He licked your cheek.”

“Which was sick. He’s a sicko.”

“It was still pretty funny. You should’ve seen the look on your face, I wish I could’ve taken a pic with my phone.”

“We would not be friends.”

“Hello, Instagram… I’ll catch you next time.”

“You will do no such thing. Someone’s phone will die a premature and mysterious death by toilet flush if I ever find a picture of me and –“

“Hey, Reggie!” Betty straightened up and whipped her head around to find the man of the hour bearing down on them, looking shower-fresh, hair still mildly damp. Whatever he had been about to say to one of his friends was forgotten as he made eye contact with Betty, and he gave them a smile that looked suspiciously nervous. But Betty must’ve imagined it. He gave Veronica a wolf whistle.

“Your mom wasn’t home when you left the house this morning, was she?”

“Excuse me?” But Veronica looked pleased that her outfit had the desired effect and attention it deserved with its brevity, despite the cold weather. She wore a snug red sweater and tiny skirt with opaque gray stockings, and of course, the boots that cost a king’s ransom.

“Nothing.” Betty watched him flirt with Veronica somewhat blatantly, and irritation flared up inside her. “Where you headed?”

“Class. Y’know, that place where you scratch the pencil on the paper, and… yeah. You get the idea.”

“Eh. Kinda. Is it that place where I go to sleep?”

“That would be the court,” Betty cut in dryly.” His brown eyes jerked toward her, and she stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.

“Someone didn’t learn her lesson yesterday.”

“Like how not to block?” Veronica looked scandalized, raising her brows.

“Ouch,” she murmured.

“No, she didn’t. I didn’t just hear Cooper talking trash about MY skills?”

“Whelp, must be a little hard of hearing, too.” But her smirk was giving way to laughter, and she ducked as he reached out to swat her.

“You wound me. I expected better of you, Elizabeth.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Well, that’s true. You still can’t free throw.”

“Jerk.”

“I gotta jet,” Ron told them as she darted away. The second bell rang, and Betty belatedly got herself back on track.

“Right.”

“Later.” That seemed to be directed at her. But he left her before she could offer him a goodbye. Betty hurried off, but she mouthed the word “Later?” as she turned away from him, wondering…

*

Betty slid into the desk next to Jughead in history class a couple of hours later. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing new. You going to Pop’s today?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

“I’m meeting Arch there. Sounded like Ron might show, too.” He sounded less than thrilled, but resigned. “You should go.”

“Eh. Maybe not.”

“Keeps me from being the third wheel, even though I was the one that told him first that we should go,” Jughead pointed out.

“So I get to be the fourth wheel?”

“Just makes it less weird. I dunno.” Jug shrugged.

“It’ll look like a double date.”

“Oh, God no,” he huffed in mock horror. She threw her pencil at him, and he chucked it on the floor toward her feet, making her bend to pick it up, but she snickered at him. “Don’t get any ideas, Cooper. I have to protect my virtue from the likes of you.”

“A girl can’t help herself around you, Forsythe.”

“Can’t any of you?” He rolled up his eyes and threw up his hands, letting them land in his lap with a slap. Betty giggled.

“You’re like girl catnip.”

“Damn!” He snapped his fingers in defeat. “We’ll be at Pop’s if you change your mind.”

“I know. Thanks, anyway.”

“So… if you’re not going, can you spot me five bucks?”

“Ulterior motive. I knew it. But…” she rummaged in her purse. “I might be tapped out… oh, never mind. Here.” She fished out a crumpled five from her change purse and smoothed it out before handing it over. His face lit up.

“Sweet! I owe you.” Betty shrugged. “I still think you should go.” They straightened up as their teacher took roll. The class ticked by, and Betty grew distracted by thoughts of going out after school.

She hated the idea of being a “fourth wheel” with Jug as her commiserating, not-really-a-pity-date, pity date. It was an unspoken rule between them that they wouldn’t talk much about her crush on his lifelong best friend, nor would he tell her so much as one unkind word about her best friend, even though he and Veronica couldn’t stand each other. Jughead saved his “I told you so’s” to himself. But he had seen the way that Archie had watched Betty when she was snugged up against Mantle the Mouth, and a light bulb suddenly went on in his head. Two light bulbs, for that matter.

Sometimes, it was a bad thing to be enlightened. Jughead knew things were bound to get awkward, and maybe a little ugly pretty soon if the looks Archie was giving Betty and her sudden reticence to hang out near him again were any clue.

He followed Betty out of the class before she could get far. “Hey.”

“Hey, what?”

“What was up with you and Mantle?”

“Nothing. Why does anything have to be up?”

“I dunno. You guys were goofy yesterday.”

“HE was the one being goofy,” she corrected him.

“Eh. You both were. Like, almost sickeningly so.”

“Please,” she told him, but her face was heating up again. She wanted to yell at him, “You, too?!?!” He squinted at her, then shook his finger in a mock scold.

“Hmmmmm…”

“Don’t give me that look, Juggie.” She began to walk away from him, but he kept stride with his long legs.

“C’mon. Something’s up. As much as I know I’ll hate the answer… Bets, is there something going on between you two?”

“NO.”

“Hm. I don’t hate that answer as much as I thought I would. But, Bets… I don’t know if I believe that. You don’t ‘like him,’ like him, right?”

“Please… Juggie, how long have you known me? How long have Reggie Mantle and I been getting on each other’s last nerve?” She blew the idea off with a wave of her hand. “Not gonna happen. Especially with him living right next door. Can you imagine how much it would suck if we hooked up and then it ended up not working out?”

“No,” Jughead said, but he pointed at her again. “But, you HAVE! You’ve TOTALLY thought about this! Oh, Bets, say it ain’t so!”

“It ain’t so!” she insisted. Her face was turning beet red again, and this time Jughead grabbed her arm and made her stop in the middle of the hall, then got down on his knees in begging, pleading fashion. He clasped his hands in supplication.

“Please, pleasepleasepleaseprettypleaseplease promise me you don’t have the hots for Reggie Mantle, ohpleasepleasePLEEEEEASSSE…”

“I pinkie swear.” She made Girl Scout fingers with her free hand, hefting her books against her hip. Her skin broke out in a cold sweat when she realized that maybe, just maybe, she was lying a little. Just a teeny little bit. “And in case you haven’t noticed, Jug, I’m not his type, anyway. I mean, look at the girls he dates! I’m not his type at all.”

“Eh.” Jug shrugged and lunged back onto his feet. “True.” She almost turned around and slugged him. “He does have a certain type. They’re always really giggly and ditzy and made-up. And stacked.” Betty made a sound of disgust. “Sorry. Not that you’re not stacked… well, you’re kinda NOT… but not in a bad way, you’ve got that tomboy look going on-“

“Stop reassuring me. It’s not helping.” It really wasn’t helping. Her mind went in traitorous directions, begging questions like _What does he mean I’m not his type?_ Wasn’t it moot? Was she supposed to care? Reggie could date any girls he wanted, couldn’t he?

Didn’t she not care up until eighteen hours ago? Until he blew her mind with that kiss.

_Shut up,_ she told herself. Her mouth still held the tactile memory of his. It wasn’t fair.

“I’ll just take my foot out of my mouth, now.” Then, “Sorry.”

“Eh. I’m not really anyone’s type,” Betty sighed. “Not when I’m playing fourth wheel.”

“That sounds like self-pity. It doesn’t suite you.” Then he contemplated her second statement. “So, you’ll meet us?” Jughead’s face lit up for a moment.

“Nah.” Then it fell.

“Awwwww!”

“I’m just not up to it.”

“All right. I’ll catch you after practice in case you change your mind. Try to change your mind.”

“Talk to you later, Juggie.”

She was fuming a little on the way to her science lab. Betty felt more single than ever, and a little hopeless.

Archie was confusing her. Reggie was confusing her. Two kisses, and she still didn’t have a boyfriend. How was that possible?

*

 

Betty skirted around the courtyard after her basketball practice was over, knowing Jug would be there looking out for her, not to mention Ronnie. She left the building through the side entrance and took the walking trail out to the main street, bypassing the parking lot. Her best bet was to skateboard over to the library, since she had a history project and a book report, anyway. Veronica sent her a text, but she ignored her phone’s chirp in her purse in favor of clearing her head. She enjoyed the little burn in her legs as she kick-pushed down the sidewalk, muscles working against the chill in the air. It would be snowing soon enough.

She didn’t check her phone until she cruised up to the steps of the Riverdale Municipal Library, tucking her board under her arm. As she shouldered her way through the swinging door, she saw Jug’s message onscreen first, since it was the most recent:

Traitor. :p

She snickered, then shook her head at Ron’s message:

Where are you? We’re waiting on you.

She texted her back hastily as she made her way downstairs to the reference section:

Went to the library. Gonna work on a project. Sorry, kiddo. :(

Her phone chirped again, and the librarian restocking the shelves from a short cart pulled a face, raising a finger over her lips. Betty dutifully turned off her alerts, but she chuckled and shook her head at the screen at Ron’s reply:

You suck. Love you. Jerk. :p

She went through the card catalogue under “Gre-“ to find some sources for her report on Greek senators. She jotted down a few shelf numbers before heading to the computer workstations to scan for articles. Half an hour later, she had an enormous stack of heavy hardcover references and was dutifully hogging one of the Xerox machines making copies that she could mark up in yellow highlighter.

“You gonna be here all day?” a familiar baritone nagged by her elbow, scaring the crap out of her. She jerked, startled, and her had flew up to her chest when she noticed it was just Reggie.

“Jerk.”

“Save some paper for the rest of us.”

“I’m too lazy to take paper notes.” She opened up a thinner volume and copied a few pages, splaying it over the flatbed and scanning it. “What’re you doing here?”

“Extra credit,” he grumbled, making a face. “I missed a book report. Miss Grundy’s letting me do one on the book of my choice, and she’s letting me make up a quiz from last week when I was out with the ick.”

“Ugh. What kind?”

“Stomach flu. It was nasty.”

“Don’t tell me about it.”

“You sure? Bet you’re dying to know how it looked coming out than it did going in-“

“Um, ew. No.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, shuddering. He grinned

“So, let me hop in for a minute. I need to copy this so I can make an outline.” She moved over, taking her reference and putting it back in her stack.

“Look at you, being all studious and everything.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.” He gave her his cheesiest “Zoolander” look and she giggled. The librarian walked by and shushed them both this time, and Betty blushed.

“Sorry,” she mouthed at her. Reggie elbowed her.

“Loudmouth,” he whispered.

“You suck,” she whispered back. He quickly made his copies and waited on her for another minute.

“When are you gonna be done?”

“Just a couple more.”

“Meet me over there,” he said, nodding to the periodicals section. “Grab your stuff.” She wasn’t expecting the invitation.

“Oh. Sure. In a minute.” He left, and she peeked after him, watching him walk away. The view was nice.

She finished her copies and put back her books once she scribbled the references in her notebook. She joined Reggie, where he was already working on his book report from a syllabus sheet, jotting halfway legible notes on college-ruled paper.

“Gum?” He held out a pack of Big Red. She nodded and gratefully took a piece; their fingers bumped slightly and she suppressed a blush.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

They worked relatively quietly together over the next half-hour as she marked up her notes with her highlighter and started writing her introductory paragraph. Reggie was no slouch when it came to just getting his work done; he didn’t stumble over trying to put together a sentence, he just cranked out what he wanted to say without much hesitation, something she appreciated. Whenever he caught her glancing at him, he’d make faces at her, trying to get her to laugh out loud. At one point, he held up a page of notebook paper scrawled with “DO YOUR HOMEWORK, BETTY” scrawled in huge block print, which made her snort.

She texted him back. _Jerk._ He frowned at the chirp his phone made from his backpack, then fumbled to take it out. He hit the button and read it, then blew out an exasperated breath. His thumbs were moving rapidly across the keypad. She saw the glow of her phone screen from the interior of her purse.

How did you get my number?

Betty shrugged, then texted back.

From Ron. Seems someone gave it to her a while back before she started dating a certain redhead…

He huffed at that, then rolled his eyes at her. She smirked, then read his retort.

A) it’s sneaky to lift my number from another girl, and b) I gave her that number AFTER she started wasting her time with that redheaded doofus. Didn’t want her to waste her time.

Well. That gave Betty pause. She sighed, then shrugged.

“It wasn’t that sneaky,” she argued aloud, on a whisper. “S’not like you don’t live next door, or anything. My mom has your landline.”

“You’ve never used it,” he pointed out. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he sounded put out.

“That would’ve been weird.” The librarian was eyeballing them again, but then went to shush a group of sixth-graders who were passing a Nintendo DS among themselves. “I could almost yell across the driveway. Or tap out Morse code against your living room window.”

His lips twisted. He texted her.

Do you even know Morse code?

Yes, she texted back, and she added a smiley emoticon with a halo over it.

Nerd, he sent back.

:p

She went back to work, but she began to lose her momentum around him, too tempted to keep up their texts, but she decided it was best to let him finish his own work so it wasn’t a wasted trip. He finished his report; she got through her third content paragraph and stopped, wondering how to flesh it out for ten pages. But she knew it would be easier once she was back home on her own PC, typing up a storm.

“I’m gonna bail. Wanna ride?”

“Ooh. Yes.” It was already dark out, and her mother wouldn’t like it much if she was skating home in it and catching a chill.

“My chariot awaits.” He rose, then waited for her to get up from her chair, then pushed it in for her as she grabbed up her novel.

“I’m just gonna check this out, and we can go.” That was his hand at her lower back, briefly, as he gestured for her to walk ahead of him, and she felt a funny little tingle. Betty checked out her book, and the same librarian that played Fun Police with them all afternoon gave her a civil little smile.

“It’s due back on the fifth.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a nice day.” Reggie waited til they were three paces away from the desk before he mouthed her words in his best “huffy librarian” face, nose screwed up and pretending to adjust a pair of glasses on the end of his nose. Betty snickered.

“Stop that,” she chided him under her breath.

“What?” he asked innocently as he held her door open.

“You’re bad.”

“No, I’m not. I’m an angel.”

“Your halo’s a little crooked.”

“Are you calling me crooked?” he accused. “You could always walk, y’know.”

“Nooooo, no, no,” she recanted, then made lip-buttoning motions.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He unlocked her door for her and waited for her to get her long legs inside before gently closing it. She obliged him by leaning over to unlock his door, and she didn’t see his smile.

“I’m still swamped.”

“I’m pretty much done, except for some lab questions. I took decent notes, more or less.”

“If not, you can use mine.”

“I’ll manage.” He bit back the retort that he wasn’t Archie, and he wasn’t going to snag them from her when he could do his own work just fine, thank-you-very-much. He knew she was used to that, by now. He took out his phone and turned on his Spotify app and Bluetooth. Betty leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, enjoying the smooth ride. “Tired?”

“Whipped.”

“Long day?”

“Practice was a bear. Good, but rough.” He nodded.

“Yeah. We’re on the same page.” But he still looked fresh and alert. She noticed an empty Monster can in his cup rest.

“Thanks again for the ride. And the gum.” She was still chewing it while it had a teeny bit of flavor left, barely pushing it against her teeth with her tongue.

“Want another?”

“I’m good.”

He steered them toward home, and he was about to make the right turn onto Elm Street when he spoke again. “So, what’s the deal with you and Arch?”

“Excuse me?”

“Archie. You like him, still?”

“Well… he’s taken,” she told him, as though he wasn’t aware of it up until then.

“I know he’s taken. But do you still like him?”

“Well….why do you wanna know?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Just wondering, is all.” He glanced at her. “So, do you?”

She was blushing furiously. “Reg… geez.”

“Can I take that as a yes?”

“It kinda doesn’t matter. He’s dating Veronica, who you might remember is my best friend.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” He cupped his hand around his mouth like a megaphone and loudly repeated, “Just answer the question!”

“You’re avoiding the question, too,” she pointed out. “Why. Do. You. Want. To know.”

“Inquiring minds,” he shrugged. His expression was bland, but still impertinent. She sighed.

“I might like him a little.”

“AHA!” He pointed at her. “You… I knew it! You like Andrews!”

“Geez,” she muttered. “What’s the big deal? Don’t broadcast it, whatever you do.”

“It’s been common knowledge since middle school. You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Perhaps let me live in my own little bubble a little longer, Mantle. Ignorance is bliss.”

“No. It’s bad. Bliss is bad. Andrews is bad, too.”

“No, he isn’t!” she shot back indignantly.

“He knows what he’s doing, Bets. Don’t get me wrong. He’s crazy about Veronica, but his eyes aren’t staying in one place.”

“Neither are yours,” she told him flatly. “Hello, Mr. Hasn’t Been Single Since Freshman Year.”

“I’m single now,” he shrugged. “For the moment.”

“Oh, that’s nice…” She shook her head in disgust. They pulled into her driveway again, which was almost beginning to feel routine. He left the engine running and continued to talk over the music once he turned down the volume.

“The difference between me and Arch, Bets, is that I’m legitimately single when I’m single. I don’t ACT single when I’m DATING like he does.”

“He’s not acting single,” she said, even though it felt a little like a lie.

“Guys don’t kiss their girlfriend’s BFF when they’re really ‘dating.’” He emphasized it with air quotes.

“Wait… what?” Any vestige of a smile evaporated as she reached for her backpack. “Reg… what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw him. I saw you. Looked like you didn’t care who he was dating at the time, Cooper.”

“Reg… That’s enough. We’re done. I’m not having this discussion with you.” Her face was burning and she felt annoyance and resentment settle over her like a cloak. “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not,” he countered.

“No, you are. You totally are. And what were you doing, Reg, spying on me?”

“I was just going back into my house, and I happened to glance over the hedge when I heard that crappy little car of his pull into your driveway,” he explained with a shrug, but he felt guilt creep over him at her words. Technically, it could be said that he was spying. Just a little. A teeny bit.

“I’ll let you get back to acting single, then,” she told him as she opened the door. “Until your next conquest.”

“Um, conquest?” He was incredulous. “They’re called girlfriends, Betty. It’s not like I’m keeping count.”

“You _lost_ count.”

She kinda had a point…

“Thanks for the ride. But please don’t spy on me anymore.”

“Bets…” She closed his door a teeny bit too firmly and headed up her front walk. He hesitated a moment, deciding to make sure she was safely inside before he went to his own driveway.

Somehow, that sounded better in his head than it did coming out of his mouth…

*

She fumed for the rest of the night, periodically returning Veronica’s texts. Of course, all she could do was gush about Archie and chide Betty for not showing up. But thinking of the talk in the car burned her up. What business was it of his, anyway, if she got one little kiss from Archie? He’d kissed her, too, and it hadn’t led to anything, had it?

Well… had it?

She contemplated all of the signals he’d given her in the library. For the most part, their time together wasn’t really “time together.” Not really. She hung out with him all the time, in passing. Two kids who had always lived across the way from each other and who kept ending up in the same class together over the course of a decade were bound to hang out. And annoy each other. And, maybe, just maybe, get into each other’s business.

If Reggie knew more about her love life – or lack of one – than she gave him credit for, it couldn’t be helped.

It was so hard. It was so hard not to ask him about the kiss he’d give him in that same spot, wanting to ask him so badly if it meant anything, but not wanting to seem needy. Not wanting him to think she was making a bigger deal of it than she was. He hadn’t tried to give her another one. He just came at her out of the blue with his Archie interrogation. Why? She had no clue.

His mouth. Mantle the Mouth. Jughead had coined that nickname a long time ago from listening to him smack-talk and brag on the playground. Betty decided the name merited a different context, now. It was firm and hot, and so capable of turning her brain to mush.

_Mush._

It was funny. It was sad.

Betty was so confused.

*

To her credit, Reggie was acting single. And doing it very convincingly.

He texted Pepper, a girl he met after a game against Midvale High, a pert, cute brunette in hipster glasses and a pixie haircut who once showed up to one of Veronica’s mixers that he didn’t remember while she was in costume. She admitted to being a Star Wars freak and was slightly offended when he called her a “Trekkie.”

He coaxed her into a date on Sunday, since he had the game on Saturday; he figured a movie matinee was a good way to break the ice and see where things would go. But still, Betty’s accusation left a sour taste in his mouth.

What did she care how many girls he went out with? It wasn’t like it was against the law to play the field. He never pretended to go steady with any of them or made any promises. It had kinda sucked when Clarissa dumped him, but what could he do? Pine? Tattoo her name on his chest? Take out an ad in the Riverdale Gazette or a craigslist “Missed Connection” page begging her to come back? Write a sonnet?

It had hurt when Veronica chose Archie over him. It had started out as a movie date between them, too.

Veronica was fashionably late and worth every minute of checking his phone at the theater. She met him there looking luscious in snug jeans and a skimpy red top, lips glossed into a matte red pout. The date went well. He bought her popcorn and a diet soda; she barely touched either, presumably not to ruin her lipstick. They held hands over the armrest. They went and walked the mall afterward and he kissed her in the parking lot before they parted ways. Her lips were soft and skilled; she pried a small noise of want from his throat and combed her fingers through the hair at his nape, breathing him in. She let him go, said he could text her the next day.

A second date never materialized. She was driving Andrews home in her car the Friday after when his broke down, looking at him like he gave her the moon. Reggie’s ego was bruised. He’d sent her a couple of texts. Dropped a few hints. They didn’t pan out.

He didn’t pan out.

So, here he was, planning another movie date with a different cute brunette. His expectations weren’t high. And he didn’t feel like he was doing a thing wrong.

And hey, when you did something by rote, how could it go wrong?

He thought back to the kiss. Their kiss, not the one seen over the hedge.

He missed the opportunity to steal another one, and it irked him. Sometimes, his mouth got him into trouble, didn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End notes: Oopsie. There goes the angst. Ah, well.
> 
> Also, I winked briefly at my other story, “Nerdy Girls Need Love, Too,” in case you didn’t catch that Easter egg. I’m goofy that way. Not unlike Betty confessing her hookup to Ethel in “Elective” that actually happened in “Beggin’.”


End file.
